


And It Burns, The Ring of Fire

by InTheArmsofaThief



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive!Laura, Angst, Arson, Cop!AU, M/M, No Hale Fire, alive!hale family, cop!Stiles, human!AU, lawyer!derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:59:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1502804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheArmsofaThief/pseuds/InTheArmsofaThief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek, at first, only had eyes for his sister, checking her over, ignoring her reassurances that she was never even near the flames.  Then his eyes caught sight of Stiles and every heavily built muscle in his body froze, almost like someone pressed the pause button.  Laura and Erica looked between the two men, confused by the sudden stillness in the air.</p><p>“Stiles,” Derek bit out, a polite but curt greeting. </p><p>“You two know each other?” Laura asked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles was running late.  He’s almost always running late.  It’s a problem mainly facilitated by his need to stop for coffee before work because the pot at the office was almost always burnt.  Erica was always the first in and she really didn’t know how to make it.  Of course, if you said anything about that, she’d bite your head off, so most of the other cops just bit the bullet and drank the shit, but Stiles stood by that he needed his fancy coffee to get out of her glare.  It didn’t always work.

She glared at him as he walked in and past her desk, but that had more to do with the fact he was working the arson case when she was still on desk duty.  Erica had buried her medical records well but she had a seizure on the field. They had to take her gun away and she can’t drive a police car anytime soon.  Only Stiles and his partner Boyd knew that she had epilepsy and should never have passed the police examination in the first place.  Luckily, policy on officers who obtain seizures from injury on the field are to keep them at the desk.  A one-time seizure, as they think it is, they’ve put her on paperwork only for a while.  It’s the reason they’re no longer partners.

Erica wanted this case.  She liked fire cases.  “You’re late.  Ally’s pissed.  Maybe if you drank my coffee.”

“You’re not a secretary.  Get one and make them do it,” he said on his way to the conference room. 

He passed Scott, nodding hellos quickly.  He and Scott used to be partners.  They had been friends since middle school, joined police academy together.  They had been partners for a year before they, according to Lydia, had to be separated for their own good.  Now he was buddy buddy with Lahey.  Stiles didn’t really like Lahey, he wasn’t the smartest cop, but he was good at following direction when needed, so Scott never steered him wrong. 

Boyd was already in the conference room with Argent, their Director, one of the youngest Lieutenants ever in the LAPD, and Scott’s fiancé.  Allison was perfect for him, even if they had to jump through hoops to prove they had been dating before she reached rank and that no favoritism would be shown if they continued to work in the same department.  It was complicated and judgy, and Stiles did not envy Scott.  Especially when her father was the district Chief. 

The board was covered with photos of the recent burned out buildings in the area, organized by date.  Lydia walked in two seconds later, a frown on her face and the new forensic work in her hands. 

“This doesn’t look good,” she groused, flipping through her new information.  “Our arsonist is experimenting.” 

It was easy to see the progression in aggressiveness of the fires.  The first was a fireball in the kitchen because someone came in and turned it on at night and when the mother went to make bacon, well.  She was lucky, minimal burns on her arms.  It was initially dismissed as an accident.  Only later ruled as arson when the connection between the fires became clear.  The second seemed a separate case altogether.  Gas poured all over the living room and then again around the house.   Scorched, but not burned down.  Family was away on vacation.  The third was chemical, broken glass foreign to that of the broken window to indicate Molotov Cocktails.  The fourth more homemade bomb.   

The fifth one was an inferno.  And somebody died.

All the houses belonged to members of the same family.  It wasn’t obvious at first.  Houses one and two had mothers who were cousins, different last names, both maiden and marriage.  Then their mother’s maiden name had been passed down through the males of her brother’s line until you saw the bachelor living in house three.  House four was his sister’s place.  House number five, which had just gone up the day before, belonged to the sibling’s cousin Laura Hale.  Laura was alive, but somebody died.  The fire caught onto the houses surrounding and a few people were sent to the hospital for acute asphyxiation. 

“Toxicology reports came in from the hospital,” Lydia explained with a sneer.  “Over the past three months this pyro has been stepping up their game with each new fire, trying to cause more damage.  They didn’t just make an explosive in this last one, there were airborne toxins.  They’re not just bombs anymore, it’s chemical warfare.”

“We need to start finding all the family members in the area, no matter how distant,” Allison said.  “They’re all in danger and could potentially be the suspect.  Tell Mahealani to get me a list,” she said with a nod to Boyd.  “And a second list of all the ones outside LA.  Have Reyes start contacting those.  Martin, do we have conformation on the body yet?”

Lydia shook her head.  The fire department had only been able to stop the flames by nightfall, despite the midday 911 call.  The body was barely more than ash and sat in the lab in the basement.  Laura Hale had been on a grocery run, only to come back to her house on fire.  She hadn’t known there was anyone inside and was unable to identify the body when they took her statement last night  She was a strong looking woman, but she was clearly rattled.  All dark hair and sharp lines.  She looked vaguely familiar, but Stiles supposed it was dealing with all these relatives.  It was becoming easier to pick out the similarities between them all.  Laura was coming in for full questioning today.  They had put her under protective detail at a local motel for the night.  She was still potentially in danger, after all. 

The only lead any of them had right now was the family.  Sure, they had interviewed the immediate parent/spouse/child/siblings of each household, bar Laura because it only just happened, but going through every extended relative in the LA area was going to be hell. 

The meeting ended after Lydia laid out all the lab results.  It wasn’t much, just a list of chemicals used to create the combo fire and gas bomb.  She was right.   It didn’t look good.  Boyd went to inform the rest of the troupe of their tasks.  Stiles wasn’t sure, but he though Allison was grooming Boyd for a promotion, a unit commander under her. 

“Does Scott know?” Stiles asked, when it was just the two of them. 

“Know what?”

Stiles took in the way Allison shuffled her files, tucked a jet black curl behind her ear, absentmindedly brushed her fingers across her abdomen in passing, had a cup full of water instead of her usual travel mug by now full of Erica’s brew and third cup of the day.  “That you’re pregnant.”

Allison closed her eyes, taking ten seconds to relax the tensions in her face.  “How,” she started before opening her eyes and seeing the way Stiles smirked at her general appearance.  “Okay, Sherlock, what gave it away?”

“You’re mom’s a health nutter who drilled into you how caffeine can be harmful to an embryo, which was later drilled into you by Scott’s nurse of a mother.”

Allison looked at her water bottle, betrayed. 

“And I know, Scott doesn’t know,” Stiles continued.  “He would have been flailing and probably have called the second he found out.  Just thought he made a good topic marker.”

“Well you did make detective under my father for a reason.”

Stiles beamed.  “Hell yeah I did!” He fist pumped while attempting to stand and managed to trip and get caught in the rolly chair.  Stiles fell to the ground with a yelp. 

“And that would be the reason he held out on the promotion for about a year,” she added with a barely contained laugh.  “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

He pushed himself to standing, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, even though this was a common occurrence for him.  “Waiting on Hale.  Need to question her.  Then Boyd and I will do her immediates.”

Allison walked passed him, slapping his chest lightly with her files.  “Don’t tell Scott, okay?  I’m still deciding if we should move the wedding date or not.”

Stiles followed her out, only tripping over his own legs once on his way to his desk.  Scott was the one to be questioning Laura when she got in, since he and Isaac had been first on the scene the night before and taken her statement.  It relaxed the victims when they saw a familiar face.  He waited on Danny to bring him the list of names.  Stiles would probably be delegating who went to which subsection of the family.  Still, he pulled out his own chart, the one he’d made when Michael Briar had revealed he was second cousins with Kelly and Ben Waters, children of Christina Waters, maiden name Goddard, daughter of Vivian Goddard, maiden name Briar, sister to Marcus Briar (Michael’s grandfather) and Molly Briar, married name Delarond, whose daughter Lisa married Jay Novak.  The Novak’s house was the first hit, their two children away at college.  The Waters were the second, on family vacation.  Then Michael Briar, then Jenny Briar.  Now Laura Hale, who would have been Laura Briar had her father not taken her mother’s name, according to her statement last night when asked if she knew Michael or Kelly.  He hadn’t added her to the chart yet, or searched up her siblings. 

Stiles took a red pen out of his drawer, uncapping it with his teeth.  He traced the hit houses up the tree line.  They weren’t just family, they were all related by blood.  So far, topping at decedents of Daniel and Sarah Briar, parents of Vivian, Marcus, and Molly.  Her maiden name was as yet unknown.  It would only take a few strokes of the keyboard, but he could trust Danny to be thorough and already have the full family tree in tree format when it reached him.  It was a big family, the kind at reunions only the older adults know how everybody is connected, and only because they had to map it out so many times themselves.  He swiveled on his desk chair, chewing on the pen cap. 

Stiles himself came from a small family.  He was the only child of only children.  His grandma on his dad’s side was the youngest of six children, a big Polish family working on farms in the Midwest, but when Stiles was growing up she was the last one standing.  His paternal grandfather was also an only child.  His maternal grandfather died when his mother was still young, Stiles’s namesake.  Another big Polish family, but they were all back in Poland and they probably don’t even know he exists.  Not like he would be able to tell you they do either.  It’s been just him and his dad for years.  He can’t imagine trying to keep track of all these cousins.

Laura was coming out of questioning when Stiles went to brew a new pot of coffee with the declaration that there wasn’t enough left for a full cupful when Erica glared.  Laura was a very put together woman for someone who just lost all her belongings.  She must have done a Target run sometime between last night and before coming to the station.  Stiles winced internally remembering Laura had been out at the grocery store only a few blocks from where she lived, her car caught in the fire that brought down her house.  One of the Rookies looking after her must have worked as chauffer as well.   He wondered what her plans were until she found a new place as he watched her chat idly with Erica in the space just between the bullpen and the lobby.

Laura had a Lydia-esque outer shell in how she stood and the tightness around her eyes but she was a good person.  Stiles could read character like people read billboards.  It was in the way she had checked on her neighbors after snapping out of the shock of her house on fire, holding her neighbor’s crying daughter who had thought Laura might have died, and the fact she drank Erica’s coffee in front of her without a word (or face) of complaint.  There was a tenseness to her shoulders that came from a bad night’s sleep, but her eyes had a radiant quality, wicked in a jovial way.   She seemed familiar, but it was from dealing with all the relatives, he was sure.  It had bugged Stiles the similarities between the children of the first two households before figuring it out. 

Stiles nearly fell off his chair he was leaning back so far, lost in his thoughts, when Danny slapped the family tree down in front of him.  “I already gave Isaac a straight list with highlighted sections for him and Scott to start with, and a copy for Erica of the out of town relatives,” Danny smirked. 

“Do you know what Laura Hale’s still milling about for?”

Danny looked over and shrugged.  “Isaac said her brother’s gonna pick her up here and take her back to his apartment.”

“How’s she so chummy with Erica?”

Danny rolled his eyes and slapped Stiles over the back of his head so that Stiles stopped tipping his chair back.  “Hey, Erica!” Danny shouted down the hall.  “You know Hale?”

“She had an A-Kie-Oh pin!” Erica shouted back.

Danny and Stiles rolled their eyes in unison.  “Sororities.”  Not that Sororities were a bad thing, but the number of times Erica got in a place because of her connection had gotten on his nerves a lot when they were partners.  Mainly because the only lasting connection Stiles had in undergrad was the full time staff of his favorite dining hall slash place of employment for three years.  He wanted to work in the library, but there was no coffee in the library.  There was both free coffee and free food at the dining hall.

Stiles scanned the family tree Danny sent him, uncapping a red pen with his teeth and following the targeted families’ bloodline up to find the root, not paying much attention to the actual names past L. Hale.  He’d made the path before on his own rough version of the family tree, but it felt more official on Danny’s fancy copy.  Stiles walked over to Erica, who was still chatting away with Laura, and asked her to dig up any and all information on who appeared to be Laura’s great-grandparents. 

“Yeah, I’ll get right on it,” Erica said with a huff, but it was obvious she was glad.  It was desk work, but it was still detective work.  They’d been partners long enough to know a lot of Stiles’s intuition panned out.

“LAURA!” A voice boomed from the lobby, sounding frantic and worried, typical close relatives when faced with perceived threats, even though Laura was in no immediate danger. 

“Over here, Der!”

Stiles’s heart blipped at that, but he didn’t have time to process his irrational almost fear before confronted with a completely rational almost panic.  Laura’s brother rounded the corner to where Erica’s desk was.  He was tall, olive skinned and dark hair, lots of muscle and much more stubble than the last time Stiles had seen Derek Hale.  The blip from the name recognition was nothing compared to how it felt as if his heart died in his chest upon seeing Derek after all these years.

Derek, at first, only had eyes for his sister, checking her over, ignoring her reassurances that she was never even near the flames.  Then his eyes caught sight of Stiles and every heavily built muscle in his body froze, almost like someone pressed the pause button.  Laura and Erica looked between the two men, confused by the sudden stillness in the air.

“Stiles,” Derek bit out, a polite but curt greeting. 

“You two know each other?” Laura asked.

And didn’t that sting.  Stiles didn’t have any siblings, the closest thing being his best friend Scott, and Scott knew all about Derek.  But apparently Stiles wasn’t important enough to share with family.  It shouldn’t matter though, Derek was years ago, when Stiles was still a rookie.

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles responded, bouncing on the balls of his feet once to clear his mind without flailing all over the place.  “Long time ago now.”  Stiles gave Derek a tight smile.  “It’s actually a good thing you came in,” he continued, back into his cop flow.  “We’re needing to question direct family members.  Just, general questioning, trying to get a feel about who may be targeting you.  Um, if you could just…” Stiles held out his hand, signaling ‘one moment’ before heading to Boyd’s desk.  “I need you to interview Laura’s brother.  I can’t do it.”  Boyd raised an eyebrow.  “We used to date.”  Boyd’s face drooped into a very judging manner.  “What?  I can’t control who my exes are!”

Boyd rolled his eyes and pushed himself out of his desk.  “I’ll put McCall behind the glass.”  Boyd walked back over to where Laura and Derek were still standing.  By the sounds of it, Laura was doing her own interrogation as to what the freeze up was about. 

“Um, this is my partner, Boyd.  If you’re free now, Mr. Hale, he can question you and we can be over and done with.  I’m sure you and your sister are eager to be away from all this for a while.” 

Stiles spun on his heel and headed to Allison’s office, not daring to look back or even breathe until the door was firmly shut behind him.  Allison wasn’t there, so he just slunk into one of the chairs and waited for the text from Erica.  It wasn’t two seconds later his phone buzzed.

[10:24 From: Catwoman] WTF WAS THAT

[10:24 To: Catwoman] can we pls tlk bout this after Hales leave?

Stiles then proceeded to have a miniature panic attack in his superior’s office.

[11:01 From: Catwoman] They’re leaving now.  Come on out.

Stiles took a deep breath, peeked out the blinds to catch a sight of Derek’s ass in a pair of jeans and shit.  He waited until the pair turned the corner before heading over to Erica.

“I hate my life,” Stiles groused. 

“So who is he,” Erica asked.  “Oh, and I got a start of that info.  Sure there’s more to dig up, but here.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said, sitting up with a sigh and opening the file Erica slid over.  “How the hell am I supposed to take lead on this when I can’t even look at his stupid face?”

“You mean his fucking hot as hell face,” Erica smirked before seeing the way Stiles winced.  “Who the hell is he to you, Stiles?”

“Scooootttt!” Stiles whined.  Moments later, Scott was over with the Reese’s Stiles had stashed in the freezer.  Scott took the other seat in front of Erica’s desk and sighed. 

Erica gave Stiles a sympathetic look before turning to Scott.  Stiles, of all people, wasn’t in a talkative mood.  He was in a shove-candy-in-my-mouth-hole mood.  So this had to be good, or well, big.

“Stiles and Derek dated when we were rookies,” Scott started with, and Stiles banged his head against the desk again.  “It was a bad break-up, to say the least.”

Erica let out a long whistle.  “We’ve been partners for five years, so it must be bad if it’s still wracking you up like this,” she said, patting Stiles’s arm lightly.  “But dude, you tapped that.”

Stiles groaned.  “I did,” he mumbled, a small smile on his face.  “I very much so tapped that.”  Stiles sat up again and rolled his shoulder back.  He licked his teeth clean of the peanut butter and chocolate mush he had smashed into his mouth.  “Okay.  This is a good start, thanks,” Stiles said, holding up the file, “now get going on contacting those out of town relatives.  Scott, I need to see your notes on Laura’s questioning.  Anything come up?”

“Uh, yeah!” Scott jumped to his feet and followed Stiles who was already heading back to his desk, leaving Erica affronted with going back to non-detective work.  “Both Derek and Laura came up with the same potential suspect.  Both said neither knew anybody who would want to target the extended family, but they both said, um…” Scott trailed off, scratching the back of his head in uncertainty. 

Stiles schooled his face.  “It’s fine.  I had my candy, I’m good.”  By the squint of Scott’s eyes, it was easy to see he didn’t quite believe Stiles.  “Come on, I’m still heading this.  I need to know.”

“They said Derek has this crazy ex-girlfriend.”  Kate, Stiles thought bitterly.  “Jennifer Blake, previously Julia Baccari.  She got debarred a few years back for evidence tampering, apparently because of Derek.” 

Stiles blinked a few times.  Did Derek seriously have two crazy ex-girlfriends?  He then put some things together.  Stiles bit his bottom lip to prevent him from exploding.  “And when was this,” he asked, trying really hard to hold the sudden tumult of emotions warring in him. 

Scott flipped through his notepad.  “November, 2017.”

Stiles’s face broke, only for a moment.  He flopped into his chair and ran a hand over his face.  Only a few months after they broke up.  “Right, right.  Um, did either of them say how long they were dating?”

“Stiles,” Scott said, swaying his body in that way Stiles knew meant: you’re digging yourself into a hole, this is irrelevant to the case, you know he didn’t cheat on you.

“I know,” Stiles sighed.  “I know.  But,” he cut himself off and began combing through the info Erica gave him. 

“A few months, is what the sister said.”

A few months.  


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles was very thankful for the mountain of stoic silence that was his partner Boyd.  It made knocking on Derek Hale’s front door all that much easier.  Still made his stomach twist like when he eats nothing but Hot Pockets and Ramen for a week straight. Which, yes, is something Stiles has done since college.  Namely when they power through a case and he also doesn’t go home for a few nights. 

Not the point.  The point was, he’s knocked on the door, face as flat as he could make and, and.  Shit, now there was a Derek Hale in front of him. 

“Stiles.” He both looked and sounded shocked.  Which was rare.  Derek wasn’t nearly as stoic as Boyd, but he knew how to reign it in like a, well, like a lawyer. 

“Mr. Hale,” Stiles said, clearing his throat.  “You remember Boyd.  Can we come in?”

Derek’s face did that thing with the eyebrows where he frowned and scowled and looked like a bunny all at the same time.  He nodded and stepped aside to let them enter. 

Derek’s apartment was nice, even with the obvious signs of someone taking up residence in the living room.  “Laura’s at work.”

“She still working as a secret shopper?” Stiles asked, sitting on the couch and gesturing for Derek to take a seat just about anywhere else.  Boyd sat down next to Stiles and Derek took the cue to sit on the lazy-boy across from the coffee table. 

“Uh, no,” Derek said.  “She got head hunted to be a buyer for Lord & Taylors.”

Stiles nodded absently, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward.  “Good for her.  Look, I need to tell this to her as well, but it really pertains you right now.”  Stiles looked to Boyd for a moment and then back to Derek.  “Mr. Hale,” Stiles didn’t miss the way Derek’s shoulders tensed, his mouth thinning, “based off our information, there is a strong possibility that if this arsonist strikes again you will be the next target.  We strongly suggest you find a new location to stay at for a while, don’t tell anyone besides the department to where this location is, in order to keep you and your sister safe.”    

Derek stayed silent.  He crossed his arms and blinked once, frowning with his eyebrows that was more ‘deep V of pent up emotion’. 

Boyd continued, taking Stiles’s clenched hands as a cue.  “We can help assist in finding a place, putting you on full time protective detail.”

Derek locked eyes with Stiles and it was all the Detective could do to not shudder a breath.  “What about Cora?  Is she safe?”

“Your younger sister is in a distant enough area we don’t expect her to be targeted.  As for your uncle and cousins, there’s still always a possibility, but I’m fairly certain they’re safe.  The other families targeted are a part of your father’s bloodline, not your mother’s.” 

There was a moment between them, silence and awkwardness.  Boyd stood, clapped Stiles on the back, and told them he was taking the cruiser and he would see Stiles back at the precinct.  Stiles flailed, trying to get to his feet before Boyd left, but his partner just pushed him back onto the couch.  He watched, stunned, as his partner gave him a pointed look and finger jab. “You owe me, Hale,” Boyd threw over his shoulder before heading out.

Stiles scrambled to right himself on the couch.  He tugged his jacket in place and gave Derek an indignant glare, gaping.  “What the hell was that?”

Derek shrugged, looking sheepish.  “Boyd and I were roommates in undergrad, actually.”

Stiles’s jaw dropped.  “Did you set this up during your questioning?  What the hell man.”  The other man merely shrugged, but Stiles didn’t miss the amused look on Derek’s face.  “Oh, hey!  Don’t play me,” he snapped. 

Derek shook his head, holding himself a little tighter.  “I wasn’t.”

“Loquacious as ever.”

Derek sighed.  “It’s just, you haven’t really changed.”  He waved his hand before him, indicating all of Stiles. 

Stiles stood and patted his pockets to double check his things.  “Yeah, well, neither have you.  I’m calling a cab.”

“Stiles, wait,” Derek said, jumping out of the chair and blocking the doorway.

“That’s Detective Stilinski to you, now if you would please, I’m on duty right now and there’s an arsonist I need to find.”

The corner of Derek’s mouth curved up.  “You made Detective?” he asked.

“This isn’t catch-up hour, Mr. Hale,” Stiles said, noting the way Derek tensed again, “I have a job to do.”  Derek’s face was as hard to read as ever, but Stiles knew how to read it, even after five years.  “What the hell are you so upset about.  You look like,” he bit his tongue to stop himself.  You look heartbroken, he was going to say.  But they both know it was Stiles who had his heart broken. 

Derek frowned, leaning against the door frame.  “Can we please just talk?  I’d like to talk.” 

Sties bristled.  “Derek, right now there is someone out there planning on making a fire that could not only kill you, but the people surrounding your building.  If you really want to talk, wait until after this case is closed.”

“You’re always going to have a case, Stiles,” he replied bitterly, but Stiles noted the upturn of the corner of Derek’s mouth.  It wasn’t amusement, rather a fondness. 

“Yeah, well,” Stiles spat, “I’m a cop.”

Stiles tried to push Derek aside, but the man blocked him with a hand to Stiles’s chest.  Stiles knew even with Derek’s excess muscles, he could probably flip him, but it wasn’t worth it right now.  “Stiles, please.  Hear me out.”  Derek sounded so genuine and god did his touch, no matter how innocent, do things to him.   He was so fucking screwed.

Stiles glared up at Derek, pulling out his cell phone.  “I’m calling a cab.  You have ‘til it gets here.”  When Stiles hung up, he motioned for Derek to speak.  They both stood just in front of the door, inches apart, neither of them budging.

“I just,” Derek started, gulping after a moment.  “I never thought I’d see you again and I wanted a chance to clear the air between us, start talking again.  I thought if I let it sit too long this case would destroy any possibility of that.”

“So then talk.”

Derek groaned, nostrils flaring in that way Stiles knows means he’s pushing all his buttons.  “I don’t want to talk at you.  I don’t have some eloquent speech for you.”

“You’re a lawyer, I’m sure you could pull something out of your ass.”

“I want to have a conversation.  I want to get to know you again.”

“Why bother?  Like you said, I haven’t changed a bit.”

There was a moment of silence between them.  A heartbeat in the space between their chests.  Stiles refused to look anything besides impassive as he gazed into Derek’s eyes.

“Because I never once stopped thinking about you in the last six years.”

Stiles balked at that, finally breaking gaze and taking a step back.  “Wow.  Okay.  In case you forgot, Derek, you broke up with me.  You dumped me without any warning.  Just gave me a box of my stuff and said we were over.  And apparently your family didn’t even know we were dating after almost a year and a half, so there’s that.  Do they even know you like men?  Is that why?”  He said the last bit sarcastically, but from the way Derek’s eyes closed off Stiles knew he hit something.  “Oh my god.  I was your dirty gay secret.”   

“That’s not –,”

“Fuck you.”  Stiles phone began to ring.  The cab was out front.  “You can go to hell.”  He pushed Derek aside, who moved without any resistance, and opened the door.  “Pack up your essentials and move out before you get yourself blown up,” he called over his shoulder bitterly.  Boyd was going to be in so much shit for this.

When he was in the cab, Stiles called up Scott. 

“Hey man, what’s up?”

“I need to get drunk tonight.  So very, very drunk.”

The thing about hangovers is that Stiles’s boss had an uncanny ability to call him out on them before even getting in to the office.  Allison was waiting by Erica’s desk, arms crossed and that stern mother look on her face.  In retrospect, Scott probably just tells her.  “Is this going to be an issue, Stiles?  Am I going to have to put Boyd on lead for this case?”

“What!” Stiles squawked, immediately regretting it because it made his head pound.  “No.  I’m fine.  I can handle working with one measly ex-scumbag.  Oh, wait, no,” he said.  “He’s still a scumbag.  I can handle one measly scumbag ex.  Okay?”

Allison gave Stiles a hard look before heading towards her office.  “If this becomes a repeat behavior you’re off the case entirely.”

Stiles groaned, but took the threat for what it was: honest.    He nodded to Erica and went to his desk, pulling up the information of the on Sarah and Daniel Briar.  There wasn’t much, nothing to warrant a full scale attack against their descendants.  Neither of them were alive.  His parents were farmers.  Her maiden name was Reed.  Stiles blinked.

“Allison!” He called.

A moment later Allison stuck her head out of her office.  “Yeah?”

Stiles worried his bottom lip between his teeth, swiveling a little in his chair to settle the pieces of string that were trying to take shape.  “What was your mom’s maiden name?”

“Reed.  Why?”

There were lots of Reeds in the world.  Stiles had gone to high school with a ginger named Austin Reed and he wasn’t related to Allison.  He was pretty sure there was a Reed in police academy with him and Scott.  Also not related to Allison.  But Allison’s mom was a little intense and her family was bat shit. 

Actually, from what Stiles knows, Victoria Reed had met Chris Argent because their parents were close friends.  And honestly, Victoria was scary but Chris’s father was insane, arrested by his own son and sent to prison, and Victoria’s father was supposedly a lot like him.  Stiles hadn’t met all of Allison’s family.  Chris and Victoria don’t talk to their parents anymore or even to Chris’s sister.  Allison hasn’t seen her aunt since she was like ten, or something. 

So, if Allison’s mom’s family was as crazy as Allison’s father’s family it doesn’t seem too much of a stretch that this Reed could be a part of the same family…

“Stiles,” Allison said, snapping him out of his head.

“It’s probably nothing.  Or another weird coincidence,” he replied, shooting off an email to Danny to track Sarah Briar’s maiden family’s tree.  He tried to focus back on the computer but Allison was quickly by his desk.  “What?”

“Stiles, the number of time your hunches about weird coincidences are correct is unnerving and sometimes makes me think you’re some sort of fucking magician.”  Allison leaned against his desk, frowning.  “What does this have to do with my mother?”

Stiles sighed and shook his head.  “It doesn’t.  But Sarah Briar’s maiden name is Reed.”

Allison closed her eyes and breathed out her nose, a clear sign of her being stressed.  “The number of skeletons in my families closets,” she bit out.  “Look into it.  I wouldn’t be surprised if some Reed out there has started a Hatfield McCoy feud with the Briars because of Sarah or some bullshit.”  She started off before turning back and opening the mini fridge Stiles kept under his desk.  Allison pulled out a Snickers and ripped it open viciously.  “Shut up, I’m pregnant,” she said, biting into it and turning back to her office.

“You owe me a candy bar!” he shouted to her back.  He couldn’t help but smile when she flipped him off.

An hour later, when Stiles was piled under the files Erica and Danny kept sending his way, Scott came into the bullpen and was immediately pulled into Allison’s office.  Stiles smirked into his coffee.  Not a minute later there was some squealing (all Scott) coming from inside.  The door to Allison’s office burst open to a beaming Scott, Allison trailing behind with a tearful smile. 

“WE’RE HAVING A BABY!” Scott yelled, pulling Allison to his side. 

After congratulations and the appropriate length of bro-hug, Stiles went over to Allison, giving her his official congratulations.  “I’m assuming you’re not moving the wedding date.”

Allison shook her head.  “I’m pretty lucky I picked out an empire waist dress, though.” 

“Good.  You’re not messing up any of Lydia’s carefully made up plans.”

Allison laughed.  She sounded like a bell.  Scott was a lucky man to have such happiness.  Stiles looked to his desk.  Everything about this was slowly just starting to remind him of Derek.  Unfortunately for Stiles, not everyone could be so lucky as Scott.

Stiles went back to work, calling leads, fact checking with Danny, updates from Lydia.  It was tedious stuff.  He was giving Boyd the cold shoulder, but he didn’t know how much that really worked since Boyd was probably enjoying the silence.  He needed to figure out a new pay back strategy.

Stiles heard Erica’s delighted laughter and looked over.  Laura Hale was back at the front desk, chatting away.  She looked over and caught Stiles staring and waved before saying something to Erica and heading over.

“Detective Stilinski!” she said, far too cheerily for someone whose house just exploded. 

“Ms. Hale,” he said, closing his current file.  “What can I help you with?”

Laura took the seat across from his desk, setting her bag down with the tiredness he would expect from someone in her position.  She wasn’t so morose, but Stiles could see where the current events were still getting to her.  “It’s more what I can help you with, if you want it, that is.  Actually,” she said, sitting a bit straighter, “it would be nice if you and your partner could help out.  I found Derek and myself a new place to lay low for a bit.  I’ll leave the address with Erica.  The protective detail is sweet, but they’re a little young and I can tell that it’s making Derek nervous.”

“Right, no problem,” Stiles said, trying not to grimace at the idea of helping Derek move. 

“But about you,” she continued quickly.  “It’s just.  I made Derek tell me how you two know each other.  And Derek, he never told anyone about who he was dating.  We only found out about Julia because he found out she was doing shady stuff and their relationship became semi public in the process.  And Derek was the only one in our family that didn’t know that everyone knew he liked boys.  If that’s what you were worried about, it’s just –”

“Laura,” Stiles cut her off, mind reeling with the counter information from his conversation the day before, “if I may call you Laura?” She nodded.  “This is really sweet, but Derek and I broke up years ago.  True, there’s some animosity between us on my end, but it’s nothing to worry yourself with.  We’re over and done.”

Laura shook her head trying to find the right words.  “No, it’s more than that.  I know Derek better than anyone and I’ve never seen him look at someone the way he looked at you.”

“Like a ghost of a person he thought he killed and buried?”

“Like he had real feeling for you.  That’s rare for him.  Everyone could tell Julia was just a rebound.”  Laura stood and grabbed her bag.  “I’ll see you around, Detective.”

“Thanks for coming.  But please, Laura.  I don’t want to talk about my past relationship with your brother again.”

She hovered for a moment.  Stiles didn’t dare look at her, not when his heart was pounding a staccato in his chest. 

“Noted.”

Laura walked away, stopping by Erica’s desk just long enough to leave the new address.  When Boyd walked by, Stiles stopped him. 

“We have to assist Detail to move the Hales out later.  You’re doing heavy lifting.  I’m supervising.”

Boyd scoffed.  “Fine.  But I’ll remember this when I’m your superior officer.

Okay.  Stiles couldn't stay mad at Boyd.  He spoke the same sarcastic language Stiles did.  But despite Laura’s claims that her brother never shared his personal life, he still had plenty of reason to stay mad at Derek. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

About half an hour after Stiles’s shift got off he was still there, just then packing up to get ready to leave, Lydia rushed her way upstairs.  Lydia Martin never rushed.  She much preferred to commandeer her space by stalking in and the steady click her heels declaring war on anyone who dares defy her.  So to hear Lydia’s hurried footsteps worried Stiles. 

“What is it?” He asked, stalling his movements from putting case files into his messenger bag. 

“The body didn’t die in the fire.  He was killed, first.”

After a beat, Stiles took the file from Lydia’s hands, flipping through them.  There were photographs of the John Doe’s neck, zoomed in and circled.  Stiles couldn’t make head or tails out of it. 

“Initial autopsy declared death by asphyxiation, but that’s because the idiot coroner was expecting smoke damage to the lungs.  Which yes, there were signs of,” Lydia said, pulling a photo of a biopsied lung and putting it on top.  She tried to point out the points of smoke damage but it was gross so Stiles shoved it under the next photo in the pile.  “Whoever this was _was_ alive before the fire at Laura Hale’s started,” Lydia continued, “but somebody strangled them.  Here.”

Lydia pulled the file out of his hands and spread it across his desk so she could better find the photos she needed.  “Look at this.  See the deeper discoloration around the neck?”

“Not really,” Stiles admitted.  It all looked like charred flesh to him.

Lydia rolled her eyes and flipped her hair.  “Like I said, the coroner was expecting asphyxiation, and the victim has all the right signs.  Damage to the lungs and throat.  However, the damage to the throat is deeper than smoke.  Further inspection of the wind pipe shows damage from crushing and this,” she pointed to the neck photo again, “this is deep tissue bruising.  This man was strangled, after the fire was started, and then left to go up with the house.”

Stiles let himself fall back into his chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.  “Well there goes the theory that John Doe was the perp and Laura Hale was the last of the arson cases.”

“That would be too easy,” Lydia commentated with a tired sigh.  The excitement of finding a new clue wearing off in favor of the late hour. 

“No ID yet?” Stiles asked semi-hopefully, despite knowing the answer.

“No ID yet.”

“So,” Stiles said, rubbing a hand over his eyes, “we still have to figure out who he is, what he was doing there, and now we have to figure out who would want to kill him.”

“That might actually be easier,” Lydia hummed, leaning her butt against the desk.  “Figure out who he is, then who might want to kill him.  Whoever wants to kill him could be the arsonist and decided to get two things done at once.”

“They could be partners,” Stiles mused.

“That might explain the different techniques used.”

“And the escalation.”  Stiles pushed some of the photographs around.  “Maybe our John Doe got squelched because they didn’t want to take it the step further.  What did you say before, the last one was a fire _and_ chemical bomb.”

“Essentially,” Lydia conceded.   

They sat in silence for a moment or two, lost in their own trial of thoughts.  Stiles stood in frustration, shoving the file papers back together.  “We can’t do anything until we know who the hell that person is!”

Lydia shrugged.  “The guy might not even be declared missing yet, and it takes 30 days just for their dental records to be asked for.  Forensic is working on the few bits of hair that were left, but,” she pursed her lips.  “I sent our information out to FBI, but you know it can take weeks for this kind of stuff to yield results unless they decide to swoop in and save the day.”

“Ugh, last time the FBI were here it was manned by Scott’s dad.  Please, never again.”

“Not if I can help it,” she said, pushing herself away from the desk.  The office was near empty of personnel on this case.  Further down the bull pen was the night crew, jailing up some drunk and disorderly and what looked like a hooker. “Come on,” Lydia said, slapping his knee gently, “let’s get out of here.  We’re both past the clock, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Stiles sighed.  “Maybe we can stop off at Mary Kay’s and split a cherry pie.”

“Strawberry-Rhubarb.”

“Deal.”

Lydia drove, her nice little red Prius zipping through the streets of LA to their favorite dinner.  Stiles normally walked to work, so Boyd took their cruiser.  Mary Kay’s was tucked out of the way, not too far from the station.  They found themselves there fairly often.  It was a strict no shop-talk location. 

Lydia sighed into her coffee, scooping another bite of pie into her spoon.  “Allison’s having a baby.”

Stiles nodded, unable to respond around a mouthful of pie filling. 

“Allison’s having a baby,” she continued, “and getting married, and I’ve spent more time with dead bodies than I have people in the last two months.  I’m not even a coroner.”  She took the bite of pie on her spoon with a snarl.

“Yeah, well,” Stiles shrugged, taking a swig of coffee.  “You’re a perfectionist and don’t trust other people’s work.  And you’re the one who turned Jackson down when he proposed, so.”

Lydia huffed.  “I know, just.  It’s frustrating, being single, and seeing your best friend so fucking happy.”

“Tell me about it,” Stiles grumbled.  “At least you have a date to the wedding.”

“I shouldn’t have agreed.  I’ve never even met Aiden.”

“No, but you met Ethan.  And if Danny’s boyfriend is really a twin, then I think he’s just your type.”

“Ugh, stop pointing out the obvious.  You’re not my sassy gay best friend.”

Stiles laughed and pretended to flip a scarf over his shoulder.  “Look at your life,” he said, “look at your choices.”

Lydia frowned, swirling her spoon in the puddle of ice cream aimlessly. “That’s exactly what I’m doing,” she said.  “Do you think I made the right choice, with Jackson?”

The last few morsels of pie crust and melted vanilla bean didn’t look very appetizing anymore.  Stiles shook his head.  “Lydia, you wouldn’t have been happy being Mrs. Whittemore.  You and Douche Bag at Law were a power couple, yes, and it’s hard because you still love him.”  She shot him a hurt look, but he just pointed his fork at her.  “I know you.  You hide behind putting yourself into your work so everyone can see your accomplishments and not your pain.”

Lydia slouched in her seat in a very un-Lydia like way. 

“You still love him,” Stiles continued, “but your relationship was fraying and he stressed you out more than he calmed you down.  I know we tease, but you did what was right for you at the time.”  Stiles tossed back the last dregs of his coffee.  “Are you thinking of contacting him?”

Lydia sat up again, her perfect posture like an armor.  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. 

“Come on,” Stiles said, slipping a twenty on the table to cover their bill.  “Let’s get you home.  Once this case is over we’re breaking out the wine.”

“Deal,” Lydia said, linking her arm with his as Stiles lead her out the door. 

It was the next day that Stiles found himself wishing for that bottle of wine.  Maybe four.  Despite Derek’s muscle and it being Derek’s stuff, he apparently thought he didn’t need to help all the cops move his things.  Instead, Derek stood around, out of his work attire and in a stupid comfy looking sweater and tight jeans.  God.

“Sorry about Laura,” he opened with after Derek walked over with his head down in what Stiles recognized as insecurity.  It made his insides squirm.  Derek was all hard lines, normally.  Stiles had forgotten how vulnerable could be.  Then the words clicked in.  “I didn’t know she was going to show up at your work, yesterday.  She shouldn’t have done that.”

“Yeah, well,” Stiles shrugged, hoping to encompass, _what can you do_ , and _it doesn’t matter_ , and _let’s not talk_ , all in one gesture. He supposed it didn’t work.

“I don’t know what she said to you, but Laura can be pretty intimidating when she wants to. So I’m sorry if she said anything that, just, I don’t know.”

Stiles caught the way Derek clenched his fists, tightening his shoulders.  He remembered back when they were together and Derek was just an up-and-comer straight out of law school.  Derek had the habit of looking as if he were holding back the hulk when he struggled with his words.  He always wanted to sound elegant and in control, and when that left him he got angry at himself.  Stiles had signed him up for public speaking workshops and they had done wonders, but there still remained some of that habit, it seemed. 

Stiles shook his head to clear it of the memories. He didn’t want to talk to him, or think about what they had, but Stiles would be civil.  He was a grown man.  He could talk to an ex, no matter how much of an asshole said ex may be.  “I don’t doubt your sister’s terror, but she’s got nothing on Lydia.”

He watched as Derek puzzled through the name.  “That red-head you’d go straight for?”

He held back a dry laugh.  “Sounds like something I’d say.”

Derek gave something of a shy smile and ducked his head.  It was odd, standing next to him as other officers helped move things around.  Stiles was still mad, but this felt comfortable.  And yet it was terribly awkward. But still familiar enough to be relaxing.

It made his stomach squirm.  He didn’t like it.

“Did she used to Skype you to tell you what to wear?”

Stiles did laugh at that.  Stiles and Scott decided to move out to Boston after high school and go to academy there.  They both knew they’d find themselves back West at some point so they figured then was the best time to see the world.  Stiles had later met Derek in his last year at Harvard Law.  And yes, Lydia would Skype him to tell him what to wear for dates as she was double majoring in Biomedical Engineering and Psychology while prepping for pre-med.

“Lydia and Laura should never meet,” Stiles conceded with a grin.  “It’s bad enough your sister’s met Erica.”

“The blonde?  She’s already taken Laura shopping to help replace her wardrobe.  I don’t know where they’re keeping everything though.”

Stiles shook his head.  Figured.  “Erica’s probably.”

Derek hummed in agreement.  Silence didn’t have time to settle between them before one of the protection detail stumbled out of Derek’s bedroom asking where he wanted the weird statue.  Stiles couldn’t help but feel as if the ground slipped from under him.  Derek rushed over to the guy, Officer Michaels, Stiles was pretty sure. 

“Oh, um.  We should probably,” Derek glanced back to Stiles, “probably put that for storage.”  Derek looked down, like a scolded animal before heading back to Stiles who was still just frozen, staring wide eyed at the pewter wolf statue in Michaels’s hands. 

Stiles remembers being shoved a box of his things and in the aftermath of the breakup he hadn’t really taken the time to do much more than kick the box around and then dig through it for underwear.  He and Scott had finished up their years as Rookies and decide to transfer to LA where they could be closer to their families not long after, and the box just got shipped as is.  Lydia was the one who actually unpacked it.  He hadn’t even realized the statue was missing. 

Now that he thought about it, Stiles only got back his own things, not the things he gave Derek.  “You kept it?” he asked, when Derek was back by his side.  Six years and he had kept the stupid wolf statue stiles had bought him for their one year anniversary.

Stiles had dragged stuck in the mud Derek to Six Flags on one of the rare days where they both had the entire day free.  It was one of their first dates.  Derek had won him a stuffed wolf toy.  So for their first anniversary Stiles had bought him a really nice statue that went with his things… Stiles would be lying if he said the stuffed wolf wasn’t in the back of his closet still.

“Uh, yeah.  I…” Derek didn’t get a chance to finish his thought before Boyd came over, lugging a huge box of books for the storage pod. 

“The SUV is mostly full.  Since I’m doing the heavy lifting can you drive Mr. Hale here over to the new place with all his stuff.”

Stiles glared at Boyd, who simply raised his eyebrows.  He looked between Derek and Boyd, feeling betrayed.  Still, Boyd knew him pretty well.  It was a bad situation but Stiles was never going to get over things without talking it through.  It’s who he was, a puzzle solver.  Derek walking back into his life had only given him a million questions and Boyd was giving him the time to solve them. 

Even if Stiles stubbornly stayed quiet during the drive.

He was working on how to approach the situation, shut up.  He did manage to sneak a text to Erica at stop lights.

“Are you supposed to be doing that?” Derek asked, pointedly looking to the phone.  “Being a cop and all.” Stiles pressed send, giving Derek a look before turning back to the still red stop light.

[3:12 To: Catwoman] HALP! I’m stuck w/ drk. Pls give me an emergency clal]

“Wasn’t driving.  It’s fine.”

“Legally, I could still prosecute you for that.”

Stiles snorted.  His phone binged just as the light changed, so he ignored it despite the itching sensation to know what Erica had to say.  There, unfortunately, weren’t any more reds and Stiles wasn’t going to use the sluggish traffic as an excuse to text.  At least, not with Derek in the car.

The new place wasn’t as nice as the first one, but it was secluded and had enough room to keep Derek and his sister comfortable until all this passed.

“Not bad,” Stiles whistled.  Especially considering the short period they had to find it.  He cut the engine in the driveway and popped the trunk.  Stiles grabbed the top box and shoved it in Derek’s arms, taking the keys out of Derek’s hands that he had just fished out of his pants.  “I told Boyd if we were helping you I wasn’t carrying anything.”

Derek barked a laugh at that and nudged Stiles with his foot to get the door. 

Stiles headed to the door, shaking his head.  “I never thought I’d see you again,” Stiles said honestly, as he jostled with the keys.  He refused to look at Derek.  “And I was pretty happy thinking that.  We didn’t end nicely, Derek.  You can’t just- I still don’t understand why you broke up with me but,” he sighed in frustration, turning the lock with a bit too much force and pushing the door open with his hip.  “It’s been six years and while I’m not willing to forgive you, I am willing and capable of being a better person and dropping it while we work this case, okay.   But don’t assume that we’re okay, that this means we can be friends because I don’t think I can ever be ready for that.”  Stiles took a deep breath, standing in the middle of the partially furnished living room.   There was a broken clock fixed to the mantel piece and Stiles chose to focus on that rather than Derek as he set the box down.  A response was coming.  Tick, tick, tick.  Right?

Stiles frowned.

“Your clock is broken.”

Derek looked over, mouth open in response to Stiles’s rant, confused by the shift in topic.  “Yeah, looks like it is.”

“If your clock is broken then why is there ticking?”  Stiles thought of Doctor Who.  Then he remembered his dad grousing about the case Chris, a family friend, was dealing with down in LA about a month after that episode aired.  “Get out,” Stiles yelled, turning to Derek. “OUT NOW!”

He ran, grabbing Derek’s elbow and shoving him out the door.  Stiles felt hot licks down his back as an explosion behind him sent his ears ringing.  He couldn’t breathe.  Smoke and heat and _pain_ overwhelming his senses.  The blast propelled him forward, covering Derek as they hit the gravel driveway.  Everything went up in smoke behind him and the world went black.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles woke up to a hazy sense of pain, the electronic beeping of his heart, soft murmurs he couldn’t make out, and the smell of antiseptic.  The last time this had happened was two years ago, and he’d been shot, and the muscles in around his shoulder had felt like something was tearing it apart.  This time it felt like his skin was try to rip itself off his body.  He could feel the taunt weight of bandages and the tug of the IV drip in his arm.  And he could feel the warmth of someone’s hand over his.  

As much as he was starting to wake up he was still too weak to even open his eyes.  Stiles just breathed in the scent of hospital and let himself gain the sort of awareness he struggled for the mornings after heavy drinking. 

Then he started to understand the voices.  Voice.  Singular.  “...and I know using how Kate ruined me isn’t an excuse, but it’s an explanation.”  Derek?  “Laura’s right, I never talked about my personal life.  They didn’t know about Paige or Cody in high school.”  It was Derek, the person holding his hand.  Stiles struggled to open his eyes but he barely managed a sliver of light before his heavy lids slipped shut again.  “They didn’t know about Ben freshman year of undergrad, but Kate and I started dating my senior year and Cora was attending by then and we shared friends so she knew and told mom and dad.  And then all of a sudden the fact I was in this relationship seemed so important to them and then Kate.  Well.  I’ve told you about her before.”

Stiles stopped trying to open his eyes, too caught up on the words Derek was saying.  He could feel his heart start to speed up, echoing in the monitor he was attached to, but Derek didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in his story.

“And I went back to not telling anyone but now I was even more secretive because I can’t tell you how much more heartbreak hurt when my family was feeling so sorry for me.  These looks of pity like I was broken.  And I was, I was, but god, seeing it from them was too much.  So I thought why bother getting hurt when I can’t heal in peace.  So I just continued to not tell them when I met someone.  And that’s why Laura didn’t know you.

“Jesus, Stiles.  I mean, it took me a long time to recover from Kate and I dated some and then I met you and.  And before you the longest I was with anyone was Kate.  And that was only six months.  And we were together for over a year and it was freaking me out.  And we said we loved each other and it was true and I did, I loved you so much.  And then I was thinking of you and things like forever, and living together, and the future, and one day I found myself looking at rings and I had a panic attack because I honestly didn’t believe I could have that and I still don’t.  I don’t deserve you but fuck, Stiles, don’t you dare do that again.  I spent five years kicking myself in the ass because I lost you, knowing it was my own damned fault.  I can’t have you go covering me from a bomb.  I can’t.  I _can’t_.  I…”

There was a moment of silence, only the sound of Stiles’s fast beating heart filling the room.

“Stiles?” 

Stiles managed to open his eyes, blinking against the harsh lights.  Derek was sitting next to him, a hospital tag around his wrist and a number of bandages down the side of his face.  Stiles could see the tears brimming his eyes.  Stiles turned his palm up to grab at Derek’s hand.  “Derek…” his voice was raspy, throat raw from smoke. 

Derek scrambled to his feet, pulling away.  “You were… Sorry.  I – You were supposed to be asleep.  I just.  I’m not – I…”  Stiles gripped Derek’s hand tighter, squeezing his fingers so he wouldn’t dart away.

The door to the hospital room opened, a nurse responding to the change in Stiles’s heart monitor.  She looked between the two men before heading over and grabbing the clipboard and started to check Stiles’s vitals.  She didn’t comment on them, which he was grateful. 

“We’re talking about this later,” Stiles said, giving Derek’s hand another squeeze before loosening his grip.  Derek’s fingers slid out of his hand and it felt like trying to hold the wind.  His touch lingered even after Derek left the room.  Stiles turned his attention to the nurse after a moment, refusing to think too long on everything he had heard.  “So, what’s the damage?”

The woman smiled slyly and rolled her eyes as if they were old friends.  “A number of second degree burns down your left side, some on your back.  A number of first degree burns spreading out from there.  Nothing that requires anything invasive, although you might end up with a few scars.”

“Scars make me badass,” Stiles informed her.  “Makes all the guys think I’m some tough guy at the bars instead of the nerdy twink I could otherwise pass as.”

The nurse laughed.  “Maybe you should accent it with a tattoo?  Really sell it.”

Stiles smiled.  “Nah, too afraid of needles.  Guns, whatever.  Little puncture wounds, no thanks.”

The nurse shook her head with another laugh.  “How’s the pain?”

Stiles felt his heart clench, thinking of Derek’s face covered in little bandages and teary eyes and the heat of his hand.  He thought a nine was appropriate, since it had been an eleven when Derek broke up with him, and a ten when everything resurfaced at Derek’s apartment.  So a nine, for soothing it a bit, but still hurting.  But she wasn’t asking about his heart.

Stiles shrugged, wincing at the tug of scabs and bandages.  “I don’t know, a six maybe.” 

She nodded, clicking her pen three times before jotting something down on his chart.  “I’m going to give you some more pain killers.  It’s going to make you sleepy, so try to rest some more, okay?”

“Okay.”

It wasn’t long before whatever was in his IV drip caused him to lull back to sleep.  When he woke up again it must have been visiting hours because he was surrounded by his force.  Scott was on his right, half asleep with a box of chocolates in his arm.  Allison was behind him, the first to notice Stiles was awake.  “Stiles!” she exclaimed, grinning.  Her voice made Scott jump.  Erica laughed from the other side of the cot.  Boyd and Isaac were standing next to her.  Lydia was at the foot of his bed, arms crossed.  Stiles could tell she was still worried by how tight her shoulders were.  Danny stood behind her, tapping away on his phone, but he did look up and give Stiles a nod and his charming dimply smile. 

“Well hi guys.”

Erica tackled him with a hug but quickly pulled away apologizing when he shouted a bit in pain.  “Sorry, sorry!” she said.  “Still healing, I know.”

“Sokay,” Stiles said.  “Hey, help me sit up.”  Boyd and Scott gave him a hand and Allison propped the pillow for a back support.  “Thanks.”

“How are you feeling?” Allison asked. 

“Okay, I guess.  Considering.”

Lydia smacked his foot.  “You’re an asshole and I hate you.”

Stiles smirked.  “Love you, too.” 

They all talked for a while, asking him how he felt, how brave he is, how they’re going to catch this guy, all the while Stiles dozing in and out, until most everybody had to leave for one reason or another.  Scott and Allison stayed behind.  “Are you kidding, man,” Scott scoffed when Stiles asked if he needed to be somewhere.  “You’re my brother, I’m sticking by you until you’re discharged.”

Stiles smiled.  “Thanks, dude.”

“And I’m the boss,” Allison smiled.  “So I get to make my own schedule.”  She grinned brilliantly, placing her hand over Stiles’s.  There were bandages that she didn’t want to disturb on his left side, so she was very careful, Scott holding Stiles’s right hand.  “However,” her smile fell a bit, “I do need to talk shop with you.”

Stiles swallowed dryly and nodded.  He knew what was coming.  “I’m handing the case over to Boyd.  We haven’t heard back from the doctors yet, but I’m making you take at least two months off for recovery.  I’ll think about it once we hear more, but honestly, Stiles.  You’re not the best off right now.”

Stiles bit his lip.  He didn’t want to be off this case, even with Derek Hale, this was _his_ case.  He didn’t want to not be working.  Tears began to prick at the corner of his eyes.  The combination of the remaining shock from the accident and the pain killers were making him emotional.  Everything just sucked.  “Yeah, I know.”

“But Stiles,” and this Allison said a bit more urgently.  Off the case or not, she was discussing it with him.  “I’ve been digging more into my family ever since you brought up the whole Briar/Reed thing.  And I found out that my aunt Kate married my mom’s cousin James Reed about a year and a half after Gerard was sent to prison.  Kate was always close to my grandfather and the Reed’s.”

“You think she inherited your grandfather’s brand of crazy?”

Allison shrugged and tucked a curl of hair behind her ear.  “I can’t get a hold of her.  I mean, I haven’t talked to her since my dad arrested Gerard, but still.  I got a hold of James’s sister, Joyce.  She said she’s been unable to get a hold of him since, well, Thursday.”

“The day after Laura’s house burned down,” Stiles mused.  Then something slotted into place in his head.  He was sure where the memory came from, but Derek’s voice from long ago saying the name, the cut of his jaw in the early morning, the orange pill bottles for anxiety and depression Stiles had found in his medicine cabinet.  “Your aunt Kate.  Kate Argent.”

“Yeah.”

Stiles frowned, blinking away his sudden exhaustion.  “Did your aunt go to Stanford?”

“Yeah, for her masters.”

 “Was she involved with a rape scandal?”

Allison frowned, “I don’t know.  Why?”

“Because Derek Hale dated a Kate Argent when he was an undergrad at Stanford before attending Harvard Law and almost got expelled and his acceptance to Harvard revoked because of false accusations of him raping her.”

Allison squared her shoulders.  “What is with my family and these Hales?” she sighed.  “I’ll look into it.”  Allison stood and patted Stiles’s hand.  “Get better,” she ordered.  She crossed to Scott and kissed his forehead.  “Update me, yeah?”

Scott nodded.  “See you at home, or tomorrow.”

“Just let me know.”

They both watched as Allison made her way out the door, their gaze lingering for a while in silence before Scott looked back to Stiles and squeezed his hand again.  The thing is Stiles didn’t have a good relationship with hospitals.  Not that many people do.  They’re associated with pain and death and injury.  They’re also associated with recovery and help and Stiles can’t be more appreciative of the nurses and doctors but he’s still bitter about the too white walls and the carefully constructed bedrooms with cables and machines and sliding doors and crappy televisions.

Scott got it.   Scott spent a lot of time in hospitals growing up because his mom was a nurse and she would have to watch him at work.  Stiles had actually met Scott in the hospital, when the kid with floppy dark hair and on offset jaw wandered into the waiting room where Stiles was waiting while his dad talked to the doctors and his mom still wasn’t allowed visitors.  Stiles had been the one with her when she fainted and called his dad. 

When his mom died a half year later, a fast acting cancer keeping her weak and hospitalized, Stiles found himself spending even more time in the hospital, Mrs. McCall and the other nurses his makeshift babysitters while his dad was on late shift.  It put a sour taste in his mouth, walking by his mom’s old room, seeing a different patient slowly dying.  He and Scott were fast friends and had some good times but it still hurt, being there.

Then, after he grew up some, Stiles associated it with his dad’s heart attack and the car crash that totaled his Jeep in undergrad and the time he got shot and most recently Erica’s seizure.  No, the hospital was not a nice place for him.

“I think Derek was here earlier,” Stiles said into the silence.  “Eighty-four percent sure.  No.  Ninety-two.”

Scott laughed softly.  “Yeah, nurse said he snuck into your room.  He was discharged an hour ago.  Chief Argent himself is brining Derek and his sister to a safe house.  I just hope they don’t get attacked again.”

Stiles hummed in agreement, his mind swaying back to the words he heard Derek confessing. 

“What did he say?” Scott asked when Stiles didn’t speak up.

Stiles shrugged, then winced against the pull of his skin.  “I don’t remember half of it,” he admitted.  “Something about us, and why we broke up, but I remember grabbing him as he tried to flee because it wasn’t exactly the reason,” Stiles scoffed.  “God I’m high on pain killers.  Do you know what they’re giving me?”

Scott just clapped him on the shoulder.  “Get some rest.  I called your father earlier.  He’s on the next flight down and will be taking to back to yours as soon as they discharge you.”

Stiles thunked his head back against the raised headboard of the bed.  “It’s going to be a long two months.”


	5. Chapter 5

True to his word, Scott stayed even after John showed up, only parting ways after helping Stiles out of his bed.  Everything was still sensitive and Stiles was walking funny.

“Legs bad off?” Scott asked.

Stiles shook his head.  “Catheter.”

The two other men scrunched their faces.  John shook his head.  “I do not envy you, son.”

Stiles laughed and swung his arm around his dad’s neck.  “Let’s just get out of here, okay Pops?”  Scott had to say his goodbyes and get back to Allison, but it was okay now that his dad was here to take care of him.  Everything was slow going.  His movements were stiff and the bandages around back itched but he didn’t dare scratch them and chance open his sores.  That didn’t prevent Stiles from squirming around in his seat to make the cushion scratch them for him. 

“Stop that,” John snapped, whacking Stiles’s good side with the magazine in his hand.  “I’m only here for the night and you’re not going back to the hospital on my watch just because you couldn’t stop trying to pick your scabs.”

Stiles groaned.  He’s always been someone who picked at scabs.  Picked at anything really.  Stiles never could leave well enough alone.  It wasn’t just the itchiness of burns that was bothering him though.  He’d only lost a day on the case and already he was getting irritable.  The not knowing was always the worst.  It’s why he made such a good detective.   It’s also why he sometimes wasn’t the best.  Obsession had earned him that bullet wound two years ago.  Stiles sighed and ran a hand over his eyes.

“Do you remember Derek?” Stiles asked, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

“Derek Hale?  That guy you dated out in Boston?” his dad asked.  Stiles nodded in confirmation.  “Vaguely.  Never actually met the guy.  Why?”

“He’s the one I covered.” Stiles lifted his bandaged arm slightly before setting it back on the arm of the chair. 

John looked over his paper at his son before folding it and setting it on the coffee table.  “Is _that_ why you’re so melancholy?  Not because you almost got your ass burned off, but because your ex is involved in the case.”

Stiles couldn’t help but smirk.  His dad made a way of making him still feel like a fourteen year old kid.  “Maybe.  He’s proven a knack for getting under my skin.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” his father prompted.

Stiles frowned, thinking back to what Derek had said to him in the hospital.  “I’m not sure.”

John hummed thoughtfully.  “Well if he gives you trouble just sic Allison on him.”

Stiles barked with laughter.  “I’m glad you know who my scariest friend is.” 

It wasn’t much of a stretch.  His father had known Allison’s father since they were in their twenties.  The Argents had moved away to LA before any kids came into the picture, but they still took visits to the small town John resided as Sheriff of upstate annually.  Both Stiles and John could remember the time Allison visited and first met Scott.  They were twelve and Stiles’s mom had just died that winter.  Allison was a year older and fiercely protective.  When Scott came over and said something that triggered Stiles’s water works, Allison took Scott down like some pro wrestler-ninja-assassin.  Scott was so scared he hid whenever she was visiting for the next four years.  Then, of course, when Scott was sixteen and finally had the balls to come over when the Argents were visiting, he fell head over heels for the dimply brunette.  Allison was all smiles and laughter until someone said or did the wrong thing, and then she didn’t hesitate.  When Scott witnessed her flipping Stiles’s neighbor to the ground and knocking the wind right out of the bully, he was in love.  Fear boners, they discovered, were in fact a thing.

“That Martin girl would be my second pick, but she can’t pull out the black widow moves like Chris’s girl.  Then either Boyd or Reyes.   That’s very progressive of you,” John mused, “having your most terrifying, lethal, and intelligent friends being girls.”

Stiles snorted.  “Yeah, they could rule the world if they wanted to.”  He fiddled with the bandage wrapped around his arm, picking at stray fibers.  A sudden wave of emotion flooded him: the bomb, the explosion, the ringing of his ears and the bulk of Derek’s body under his, the heat.  Derek holding his hand in the hospital.  Stiles blinked away the swell of tears, forcing himself to take a calming breath and relax his shoulders.  “What am I supposed to do about him?” he asked, voice cracking just the slightest.  He kept his eyes on his hands. 

His dad kept quiet for a few moments.  “Did I ever tell you about the time your mom and I broke up?”

Stiles snapped his head up to attention.  “What?”

“It was before we were married,” his dad continued, getting up and heading to the kitchen.  He pulled out a couple of glasses and turned the faucet on.  “We had been dating for a few years.  We fought a lot.  Stupid things.  Couldn’t tell you what about anymore.  Except the last one.  Claudia was going home to visit her folks and you know how I can’t stand her mother.”  Stiles snorted again as John turned off the faucet, heading back over with two cups of water.  He set one in front of Stiles, tapping on his orange bottle of pain pills before sitting down.  “Got into a fight about family and such.  She changed the weekend visit home into a month long break.  I wasn’t actually sure if I was going to hear from her again.  I wouldn’t have put it past your mother to just abandon all the stuff she left at my place.”

John shrugged and downed half his water.  “Anyway, when she came back she was ready to pack up for good.  We got into a whole new fight because I didn’t know how to just say ‘let’s make this work’.  I was too prideful to beg.  I thought if she wanted this she would just stay, she would stop picking fights.  But at the same time I was petrified because a month without her had been torture and I loved her so much and I finally voiced the one thing we had been dancing around: why are we fighting in the first place.  What began all this?”  John put the water back on the table.  Stiles could tell his dad was wishing it was whiskey.  “The answer, to both our surprise, was because we were ready for more but we were both afraid what the other would think.  We talked it over.  We moved out of my place and into _our_ place.  We got a rabbit since your mother was allergic to cats and dogs.  And a year and a half later I proposed.

“You need to figure out what you want, if you want anything.  Then figure out what he wants.  Then go from there.”

Silence settled between the two men as Stiles thought everything over.  He had no idea what he wanted.  Not out of Derek, not from himself.  He wanted to be a cop.  He wanted to make good in the world.  He wanted… Stiles shook his head.   He took up his own glass and downed two pills. 

“Can we change my bandages?  Then I’m going to bed, I think,” Stiles said sullenly.

John got up, holding an arm out to help Stiles balance as he stood.  “Sure thing.”

His father was hesitant to leave him in the morning, but John had a job to get back to, Sheriff of Stiles’s home town.  Stiles assured him the team had his back.  John understood.  Cops that worked together weren’t just coworkers.  They were friends and they were family.  “Still, kiddo, watch out for yourself.  I worry.”

“I know dad.”

Stiles gave his father as tight a hug as he could manage before sending him off.  His dad climbed into a cab and waved.  Stiles watched it until it turned, disappearing around the bend.  He pulled out his phone, meaning to text Scott, but the text icon caught his eye.  He thumbed open the last text his phone got before the explosion.

[2 Days ago From: Catwoman]  It’s only a few min alone.  You’ll be fine.

[10:14 To: Catwoman]  Cm ovr aft ur shift w/ Chunky Monkey.  Help. Im pathetic.

[10:14 From: Catwoman] West, Kilmer, or Clooney?

[10:15 To: Catwoman] Marathon! I NEED camp rn.

[10:17 From: Catwoman] Deal.

Stiles sighed.  That only gave him, what, eight hours to kill.  Stiles was already going crazy.  He crawled into bed as gingerly as possible and turned on his laptop, browsing the internet until his eyelids were too heavy to keep open. 

Of course, that’s when his phone starts ringing and it’s… “Danny?” Stiles muttered to himself before accepting the call.  “Yo, what’s up?”

“Hey, so remember that backasswards family tree?  So, you were right.  Sarah Briar, maiden name Reed, was the twin sister to Victor Reed, _Allison’s_ great grandfather.”

Everything Allison had told him at the hospital ran through his head about crazy Kate Argent marrying into the Reed family.  Could he be right? 

“Fuck,” Stiles muttered.  “Wait, Danny, have you told Allison?”

“Yeah, but she can’t do anything with it.  It’s not probable cause in a long shot, based off the theories you two were apparently throwing back and forth.” 

Stiles swore under his breath again.  “So what do you want me to do?” he asked, exasperated.  “You know I’m not on the case anymore, right?”

“Oh, like you’d leave this alone while on bed rest,” Danny laughed.  Stiles shrugged, knowing Danny couldn’t see him.  He had a point.  “All I’m asking is you look into what started this whole blood feud in the first place, because honestly it’s the only thing that makes sense.  I’m being pulled into overtime on this SoCal Hacker case.”

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Yeah, okay, I can do that.”  The call ended and Stiles brought up the police database.  He was asleep before he could log in.

He woke up to the ring of his phone and the perpetual chiming of the doorbell.  He blindly searched for his phone, wincing when the movement pulled his arm too much.  With groggy eyes, Stiles, grasped his phone and brought it to his face, pressing accept after registering Erica’s face.

“The spare key’s under the pot,” he mumbled, before hanging up.  The doorbell stopped and Stiles listened as his front door was unlocked and opened.  “In my room!” he called out.

Moments later, Erica entered with a bag from CVS.  “Brought your ice cream,” she smirked, lifting the bag.  “And the movies.  How come you don’t have your own copy of these?”

Stiles shrugged as he attempted to sit up.  Erica dropped the items on his desk before rushing over to help.  “Thanks,” he muttered.  “But I don’t think I have the appetite for ice cream right now.  I hate drugs.”

Erica laughed.  “No, you love drugs.  You’d be feeling awful right now without them.  You’ll be up for Chunky Monkey in no time.  I’ll just stick this in the freezer for now, then.”

“Can you make me toast?” he whined.

“Oh, you’re such a baby, yes I can make you some toast.”

Erica stayed up with him, cuddling on his bed so he didn’t have to move, as they watched the most ridiculous of the Batman movies.  She curled into his good side, her own tub of Half Baked in her lap.  Stiles stole a bite here or there, but the medicine was still making him queasy most of the time.

“Ally’s going to put me back on field,” Erica whispered into the crook of Stiles’s neck.  “She wants to clear me with a doctor and partner me with Boyd while you’re out of commission.”

Stiles squeezed her hip where his hand was laying.  “Hey, that’s great.”  He meant it, but he couldn’t quite be as thrilled for her as he would have been in different circumstances.  “Congrats.”

“Based on your rate of recovery you might be getting my old desk work soon,” she huffed lightly while Mr. Freeze made bad puns on the TV.

Stiles laughed, remembering how Danny had already assigned him homework.  “I’ll be back and at it in no time at all.”

No time at all, of course, turned out to be a month of searching for inane histories of Allison’s crazy family, and apparently Derek’s crazy family.  They shared a set of great-great-great grandparents.  Which made them, what, third cousins?  Stiles had to look that up.  His life came together in awkward ways.  He and Allison weren’t even particularly close despite the yearly visits until he and Scott transferred from Boston and ended up in her unit under her dad.  John had pulled some strings with Chris for that to happen, but then Scott and Allison started dating…

His life was weird, was all he could account for.  His father always said once was an incident, twice a coincidence, and three times a pattern.  But the number of times six degrees of separation collapsed on itself to become one degree, his life became a pattern of coincidences.  Looking over the family history between his ex-boyfriend and (if he was being honest with himself, which he rarely was) first real love, which happened to be the same family as the girl who he had known all his life, was currently his boss, and was marrying his best friend and blood brother, and whose other side of her family _dated_ his ex-boyfriend… well.   

It was times like these that made Stiles wonder about fate.  Although he couldn’t figure what the hell sort of fate it was supposed to be.

A month passed of driving himself up the wall searching for invisible threads to just find a stupid fucking motive while he had to stay on bed rest and his friends come over to help him change bandages and clothes.  A month of no new leads and no new fires and no news as to the whereabouts of either Kate Argent or her husband James Reed.  A month before his burns were just fading marks and he could swing his arm without something pulling or bleeding.  A month before Allison cleared him for _desk work_ while new cases piled up and the team had to put the arson file on the back burner.  A month and everyone was working on something else except for Stiles, who had been burned personally by this case in the most literal manner. 

Which is when Lydia comes running upstairs from her cave, heels clicking in that sharp precise manner that can only mean ‘stand back because I’ve got big news’.  Despite the fact that Boyd was still lead on the arson case, she walked right up to Stiles’s desk and slammed a print out of data in front of him.

Stiles looked at it, then back at her.  “You know I don’t speak this language, Lyds.”

Lydia rolled her eyes so hard it looked as if she was going to strain something.  “I’ve identified the body in the Laura fire.”

“Oh my god, what?” Stiles asked, pulling the paper from under her palm.  “Who?”

“James Reed.”

Allison’s convincing Joyce to sign over her brother’s dental records as a missing person paid off, it appeared.

“You know what this means,” Lydia intones with barely concealed excitement.  “It means you were right.”

It means the chances of their arsonist being Kate Argent just went from 30% to 90%, by Stile’s totally arbitrary rough estimations.

“We need to find Kate Argent.”

Allison pulled the team together that afternoon for a briefing and to shift people’s focuses to which case they were needed on.  Scott and Isaac were deep into a smash and grab turned gang fight and Danny was on the Hacker case.  Boyd was put back in charge of the arson investigation, Allison delegating him to figure out where they’re going from there as she had to get back onto Scott and Isaac’s case and tie up the other murder Boyd and Erica was working on. 

“She’s gone ghost by conventional means of tracking,” Allison said.  “No records of any kind and no contact to any of my family, and yes I would know because I had Joyce tap phones using non police equipment so no it’s also not illegal.  Mostly.  We need to find her.  I’m sure there’s talk somewhere.  Stiles?”

“In all my digging up dirt on your admittedly mob-like family, I’ve discovered that Kate gained a reputation for herself when she did odd jobs for Gerard.  If we’re slumming it, she might better be known as the She-Wolf.”

“Pretentious, much?” Erica scoffed. 

Allison eyed her with all trace of her smiley self gone in favor of the warrior princess that Stiles reckons to Rosa in _Beacon 99_.  “You have no idea what my grandfather did to get locked away, do you?” she asked.

“No,” Erica frowned, “what?”

“He practically ran a cult,” Boyd supplied, getting his papers together.

“The brainwash you into giving over all your assets to live in a hippie commune until you drink the poisoned Kool-Aid type cult?”

Stiles shook his head.  “The brainwash you into someone who can murder in cold blood without thinking twice type cult.”  Erica looked concerned but not quite believing, her forehead scrunched and mouth parted as she tried to place that image with someone related to their Director and to their Chief.  “You ever watch that show _The Following_?  Not based off of, but definitely inspired by.”

“Well shit,” Erica said, slightly dazed by the idea.

“Oh, and Stiles?” Allison said as they all got up to leave.  “I don’t want you out on the field.  You haven’t gotten your psych eval yet.”

“Allison, I’m _fine_.”

“I said no.  Boyd’s in charge and he knows my stance.  You’re working from here, when you _should_ still be on medical leave so be thankful for that much.”

“Allison!” he called out as she passed by him.  “God damn it!”  Stiles kicked the chair he had been sitting in, cursing when it hurt his foot. 

It was his fucking case. 

“Come on,” Erica said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder.  “Let’s get you some Reese’s and put some Aquaphor on those burns, okay?”

They weren’t bad. He wasn’t Harvey Dent or the Hound, but dark patches and slight red bumps speckled his skin, mostly on his left. The first degree burns were practically invisible at this point, looking more like tan birth marks. He needed help reaching most of them though, twisting down his back.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “okay.”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles broke open a package of Chips Ahoy, taking a draw of milk from the jug before shoving a cookie in his mouth.  It was a long week.  Erica had been caught in a gang fight while tracking down the She-Wolf.  Her cut was pretty nasty looking on her forehead, but she was still working it with Boyd and getting nowhere.  Stiles shoved another cookie in his mouth, wishing he could have been there.  If anything he would have looked tough with the scarring.

Then the doorbell was ringing and there was pounding and Stiles nearly spilt the milk getting it back into the fridge in order to answer.  He pulled the door open to see Erica’s wild blonde curls smack into her face as she herded two people into his apartment.  Stiles blinked.  No, he wasn’t hallucinating.  Derek and Laura Hale had forced their way in with wide eyes and frantic looks. 

Erica slammed the door behind them, nearly tossing Laura to the ground.

“Derek!?  Laura? What the _hell_.”  He turned to Erica, who looked just as panicked.  “They’re supposed to be in a safe house!” 

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Erica snapped.  “We got here as secretly as we could, but we would have been seen at the precinct.”

“But _why are you here_?” he hissed, already heading to his living room to pull the curtains closed.  He may be in shock but he wasn’t stupid.

“Let’s just all take a deep breath and clam down first, okay,” Erica said.  Stiles looked her over.  Her hands were trembling.

“Yeah, okay.”

When everybody was seated at the kitchen counter with a mug of tea, the Hales oddly quiet, Stiles turned his attention back to Erica. 

“What’s going on, Erica,” he demanded softly.  Stiles tried not to be distracted by the heat coming from Derek at his side.  He closed his hands tighter around the mug.

“I had Allison switch me.  I wasn’t.  I didn’t feel well, after the last fight I got into and I didn’t want to risk another,” she blew out a harsh stream of air.  Stiles reached over the counter and loosely held her hand.  She squeezed back.  “I won’t leave the force.  I refuse, Stiles.  And I don’t want to be put back on desk duty, so I asked to be switched.  I reported as protective detail for the Hales today.”

Erica took a sip of her tea.  Laura, who hadn’t said more than ‘do you have cream’ since entering, put her hands over her eyes and very clearly held in a sob.  Stiles looked between her and Derek, who was frowning deeper than usual. 

“Erica,” he asked as kindly as he could, “what happened?”

“We got the call today that the FBI will be taking over.  We hadn’t heard anything until now, but two days ago-,” Erica broke off when Laura did sob, a broken wailing sound, muffled into her own chest.  Stiles squeezed Erica’s hand, urging her to continue.  “Cora Hale’s apartment was attacked.  Her uncle Peter and cousin Malia were visiting.”

Stiles cursed.  Cora was up in Oregon, too.  She shouldn’t have been a target when all the others were centralized to Los Angeles and southern California.  It did explain why everything had been quiet for the past month, though.  Kate was traveling.  And since she passed state borders, it officially meant the FBI could take over without their asking. 

“How are they,” he asked carefully.  He jumped a little in his seat when Derek responded instead of Erica.

“Cora and Malia are being treated for smoke inhalation and poison.   Peter’s in a coma.  He… it didn’t sound good.”

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles whispered, at a loss for any other words.  He still found he needed to ask one more question.  “But why are you _here_?  What happened to the safe house?”

Derek got up from his seat, taking his cup of tea to the sink and dumping it.  “The door was tagged.”

“The spiral pattern of the first fire was charred into the door,” Erica elaborated.  “I don’t know how it happened without our notice, but as soon as I saw it I knew I had to get them out of there.”

“So you brought them _here_ because?”

Erica looked up to Stiles, her lower lip trembling.  “ _I_ need to be with someone who knows me right now.  And Boyd lives with his sister, I couldn’t impose on them.”

“But you could impose on me?” he snapped.

“ _Stiles_!” she hissed.

Stiles took a deep breath and looked at the people occupying his kitchen.  Erica was trembling to the point the ceramic mug clattered against the counter top.  Laura still had her face buried in her hands.  Derek was standing in the doorway of the living room, his head down and eyebrows furrowed tightly. 

“Sorry,” he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration.  “Sorry.  Let’s just…” he exhaled loudly and busied himself with opening his pantry and searching for something to make.  “You’ll all stay the night.  We’ll figure things out in the morning.  In the meantime, I’ll make some hamburger helper.  You’re not vegetarian, are you?”

“No,” Derek answered for both him and his sister.

Stiles nodded absently, ignoring the clench in his chest from the whole situation.  He pulled out a pot and dug through the freezer for some ground beef.  “Laura can have my bed.  It’s between the three of you who shares and who gets the couch.  I’ll take the floor.”  As Stiles stuck the meat into the microwave to defrost, he noticed how Laura clung onto Erica’s hand.   “There’s spare sheets in the closet outside the bathroom.  Probably due for a change, anyway.”

“I guess I’ll stay with Laura,” Erica said, squeezing Laura’s shoulder as she stood.  “I’ll go change the sheets.”

“Feel free to use the shower,” Stiles offered the Hale siblings.  “I always find I feel better after.  I can grab some spare clothes for you to sleep in.”

Laura nodded, standing on shaky legs.  “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Stiles headed to his room, Laura trailing behind, furiously wiping tears off her face.  “I hate being like this,” she admitted as he pulled his drawers open.  Erica entered and started stripping the sheets.  “I’m supposed to be the strong one, you know?”  Laura rested her head against the door frame, sniffing back tears.  “I was the oldest and,” she shrugged, a watery laugh escaping.  “Burn down my apartment, okay, whatever.  There’s some crazy psycho after my family, just let me get some new clothes.  But, _Cora_.  And, and Uncle Peter and I don’t even like Malia, I always thought she was a brat, but she’s my little cousin!  And they’re in the hospital and it’s just-,”

Erica rushed over just as Stiles dropped the clothes he had picked out on top of his dresser to head over to her.  He paused when he saw Erica envelope Laura, soothing her, whispering nothings into her ear.  After a moment, he walked over with the loose academy tee and a pair of boxers. 

“Here,” he offered.  “They’re clean, I promise.  Take a shower.  Everything is going to be okay.  And, for what it’s worth, you are strong.  Incredibly so.”

Laura offered him a soft smile and took the clothes.  “Thanks.”

“The towels on the rack are clean.” 

She nodded and headed towards the bathroom down the hall.  Stiles turned to Erica and raised an eyebrow.  The blonde bombshell honest to god blushed.  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and ducked around Stiles to continue making the bed.    Her hands were still shaking.

“Here,” Stiles said, stepping into her space and wrapping his arms around her.  “You’re going to be okay.”

“I don’t want to seize again,” she whispered into the crook of his neck, clinging onto his shirt. 

“You’re shaking because you’re nervous,” he told her, “the anxiety’s getting to you, is all.  You have your meds?”  She nodded against his shoulder.  “Then you’ll be fine.  And if anything happens, I’m here.”

He kissed her forehead and pulled away.  “I’m sure you can find your own set of clothes.”

Erica nodded with a quiet thanks.  “What?” she questioned with a nervous laugh when he kept staring.

“You know, I always thought something between you and Boyd would happen.”

Erica snorted, gathering herself and going back to the task.  “Yeah, we dated briefly in high school, went through academy together after college.  But he’s my best friend now and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“And Laura..?”

Erica shrugged, hiding her face further.  Stiles could see the slow grin of her lips though she tried to hide it.  “She’s just.  She’s nice.”

“How come I didn’t know you swung both ways?” Stiles asked, digging for another pair of clean boxers he could lend Derek. 

“I swing all ways.  I’m too much sexy for just two genders.  And it’s never come up because I’ve only dated guys while I’ve known you.  It’s not that I hide it, but it’s not like _you_ announce to people you’re gay.  You just start talking about the new person to catch your eye.  Same deal.”

Stiles turned triumphantly as he found a pair of soft Joe Boxers that looked like they had been pushed to the back and forgotten by how deep the wrinkled creases were. 

“Well,” he said, grabbing another academy tee, “good luck, I guess.”

Erica looked up from where she was tucking in the far corner, flipping her hair over her shoulder.  “I don’t need luck.”

Stiles snorted.

“But thanks,” she said, going back to her task.  Stiles started out for the living room when she spoke up again.  “And Stiles?”

He looked back to her.  Erica nodded towards the doorway, towards the living room, towards Derek.  “Good luck yourself.”

Stiles sighed.  “I’m not sure if I want it.”

Stiles left before she could comment further to hand Derek his own pair of clothes to change into, stopping quick in the linen closest to pull some bedding for the couch and an extra pillow and blanket for himself.

Derek was sitting in the living room, his shoulders hunched.  It was a familiar silhouette.  Stiles swallowed down emotion before crossing to him.  “Here,” Stiles said, handing over the clothes.  “Help me move the coffee table?”

Derek grunted and stood, setting the bundle of clothes and sheets down and helped Stiles shift the table to the side of the room.  “I can take the floor,” he offered, “you don’t…”

“No, Derek, take the couch.  I’m fine.”

The microwave dinged and Stiles went about making a late night dinner.  Everyone moved in a silent stupor from then on.  Erica finished up changing the sheets and set about tucking in the ones on the couch.  Derek stepped out of her way and sat on the chair in the same hunched over posture until Laura came out of the shower.  He took his own shower and by the time he was done the food was ready.  Dinner was a silent affair.  Everyone was tired, it was late, and Stiles could only imagine the emotional drain the Hales were experiencing, on top of an adrenaline high slipping away. 

Stiles hated himself for the glances he snuck of Derek wearing his clothes.

They parted ways for bed and Stiles couldn’t help remember the first time he had stayed over at Derek’s apartment.  Not the first time they slept together and woke up in the same bed, but the first time he just… stayed over.  Derek had made dinner, Stiles had been studying for an exam all day and needed to shut his brain off.  They put on a movie.  They made out a bit, but it was lazy, slow, no desperation for more.  They were both tired, anyway.  Derek had given him a spare toothbrush when they noticed it was past midnight.  They washed up together, shooting each other playful barbs and… Stiles remembers laughter.  It was fun.  Relaxed. 

They curled up together and it just felt right in Derek’s arms. 

He’d woken up to omelets and they had breakfast together before Stiles had to go home and change for work and pick up his textbook for one of his afternoon classes. 

The next time he stayed over, he had a drawer. 

Now, though, things were stifled between them.  Derek was already in clothes for the night, but Stiles hadn’t had time to change before dinner.  Erica was in the shower.  The lights were all out except the small tableside one by the mirror.    It made it easier, somehow, in the almost darkness.    

“Sorry,” he said with a half-hearted smile as Derek settled onto the couch.  Stiles turned away and tugged open his belt.  He slipped his jeans off and set them on the chair, before tugging off his shirt.  He heard Derek gasp.

Stiles turned, frowning. 

Derek coughed and looked away.  “Your burns are healing nicely.” 

Stiles shrugged, picking up the scar cream he’d brought out.  “As well as to be expected, I suppose.”  He squirted some onto his fingers and began rubbing it into his skin.  He really wished there was someplace else he could do this, but Laura was already asleep and that felt weird, and Erica was in the bathroom, and there was no mirror in the kitchen and he needed it to make sure he got a lot of scars.

There was some rustling.  Stiles glanced at the mirror as Derek stood from the couch. 

“Let me help,” Derek volunteered. 

“You don’t-”

“Please.”

Stiles hesitated, but ultimately handed over the scar cream.  Derek was careful but meticulous over every bump and shrivel and discoloration.  His fingers ghosted over Stiles’s ribs and he tried his best to not react, but his breath still caught from the heat of Derek’s body, his scent, his touch.  Derek massaged the cream into his back and it was like a special sort of torture, the feel of his rough finger tips, gentle and sure against his body.

Derek came around and stood in front of Stiles, keeping is eyes trained on his task, rubbing cream into the tendon of Stiles’s neck and further down.  Derek paused, hand hovering what was clearly and old scar on his shoulder.

“What’s that from?” Derek asked, his voice gravely.

Stiles swallowed.

“I was shot.”

Derek’s eyes didn’t leave the spot.  Stiles could feel his body flushing at the intensity of his gaze.  It was too much.  He couldn’t step away.

“What happened?”

Stiles sighed.  “It was my own damn fault, really.  I went in without back up because I just,” Stiles bit his lip, “I just needed to be the one to catch this guy, you know?”

Derek nodded.  Stiles was sure he had some cases that sending the defendant to jail swallowed him whole. 

“I got him in the gut.  I didn’t even mean to shoot, but when I got hit, my finger pulled the trigger.  Erica was my partner at the time.  She had rushed in after me and got knocked out.  I had to restrain the guy, who was bleeding out but still fighting, while my shoulder was on fire.  There was a girl, a kid, who he took,” he laughed, curt and bitter.  “I had to have her contact Allison to send an ambulance.  It was a fucking mess.”

Derek’s hand settled over the bullet wound, tracing over the thick scar tissue as if it were some carefully crafted marble.  The older man looked up through dark lashes, locking eyes with Stiles, then slowly, purposefully, leaning forward and pressing his lips against the scar. 

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles whispered, warning, questioning. 

Derek dragged his nose a hairsbreadth from his skin and placed another kiss to the burn marks on the crook of his neck.

“Derek,” Stiles pleaded.  Even he was unsure if it was to stop or continue.

The man’s stubble scrapped pleasantly against his neck as he tilted his head enough to kiss the line of his jaw. 

“We shouldn’t do this,” Stiles breathed out.

Derek stilled subtly and pulled away slowly.  Stiles’s heart was racing, his breath shallow and fists clenching onto Derek’s – _his_ – shirt.

“We _shouldn’t_ ,” he repeated against Derek’s lips. 

“Stiles,” Derek rasped out.

And that undid him.  Stiles pulled the fabric closer until he could feel the wall of muscle and their lips crashed together.  Everything was crumbling inside him as they scrambled to hold each other close, deepen the kiss to impossible lengths.  Derek slid his hands down Stiles’s back to his thighs, giving just enough of a squeeze to signal Stiles to jump.  He wrapped his legs around Derek, who held him up and walked back to the couch, turning off the side lamp, their lips never parting. 

Stiles tugged at Derek’s hair as Derek laid him on the sofa, crawling on top of him.  They were like desperate teenagers, rutting against each other in their under clothes. 

“ _Derek,_ ” he gasped a wet moan.  Derek growled into his mouth, possessive and pleased.

A door opened, flooding the far hallway in light.  The two of them stilled.  The scent of thick steam wafted towards them as Erica made her way to the bedroom. 

Derek drooped onto Stiles, pressing his forehead into his shoulder.  “ _Shit_ ,” he cursed into the darkness.

Stiles couldn’t help but echo the thought.  “Shit.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

It was still dark out when Stiles woke up, but the bright chatter of early birds was starting to fill the white noise of cars outside his window.  He hadn’t slept well to start with after rolling off the couch and determinedly not speaking to Derek as he made himself a makeshift bed on the floor.  Stiles sighed to himself, succumbing to the fact that he wasn’t going to fall asleep again and he might as well get up.  He made his way to the bathroom for a quick leak thinking idly about a bowl of Cheerios and what the hell Allison is going to say when he and Erica bring the Hales in. 

Stiles turned off the tap to his sink faucet and froze in silence of his apartment.  There was a sound that shouldn’t be there.  A jostle.  A creek of wooden frames and soft tinking of metal being worked open.  Stiles had spent enough nights sneaking into his own house after curfew to know exactly what sort of sounds a B&E make when they’re trying to be sneaky.   Something told him this wasn’t a standard robbery. 

Stiles turned off the light in the bathroom and slowly opened the door, slipping out without a sound.  He listened for the prying of… the window in his kitchen.  The kitchen was down the hall, past his bedroom.  Through it was the living room where Derek was.  Someone was breaking into his apartment and Stiles had only his wit to defend himself.  His gun was locked up under his bed and there was no way he’d be able to get it without alerting the intruder, and it may just give them enough time to either get away or seriously hurt one or all of them.  Stiles always planned for the worst case scenario.  He wasn’t going to put the people under his roof in any danger.

Taking a quick step back into the bathroom, he grabbed his scope and unscrewed the lid.  Worst comes to worst it’ll sting the person’s eyes like a mother fucker.  His bare feet made no noise against the carpeting as Stiles crept his way closer to the kitchen.  He passed his bedroom, pausing for a moment to listen in on the soft breathing of Erica and Laura on the other side of the door.  One of them was snoring softly.  He debated briefly about waking them up, but in the silence Stiles could hear the quiet thud of feet landing in his kitchen.  And Derek was still on the other side of him and whoever it was.

He couldn’t risk Derek’s life if the intruder decided to take action upon hearing a commotion in the bedroom, no matter how soft.  Stiles only had seconds to stop this in its tracks.  He reached the doorway to the kitchen peering in as best he could without giving up his cover.  A figure was crouched in the shadows, adjusting the dials to his oven.  Her blonde hair looked a ghastly seaweed color in the light of the moon. 

Stiles had seen pictures of Kate Argent.  He made sure to familiarize himself with her face and profile for this case.  He was positive of the identity of the woman who stood in his kitchen, planning on burning the place up.

“Freeze,” he commanded loudly to wake Derek, and stepped into the kitchen.  He held his hands as if he had his gun and hoped in the darkness Kate couldn’t tell the difference. 

Kate straightened, looking Stiles up and down in the dim light pouring through the open kitchen window.  She smirked.  Stiles wished he was wearing something more than his pajama pants and undershirt. 

“Detective Stilinski,” she purred.  “Oh, I’ve heard all about you.” 

With a halfhearted chuckle, Kate shifted her weight.  In a flurry of motion, she spun, grasping the handle of a kitchen knife, propelling herself around and tossing it.  Stiles sidestepped the moment she grabbed the knife, blade zooming past his chest.  His heart hammered wildly as the knife embedded itself into the wall with a loud thud.  Kate was already hopping up the kitchen counter to pop out the window. 

Stiles darted forward, grabbing at her waist and pulling her down.  The resulting crash had noise from all over his apartment to meet it.  Derek was up, yelling “What’s going on!?”  Frantic  and wide eyed, he scrambled into the kitchen where Stiles was wrestling with Kate, knives from the counter and the bottle of Scope spilled on the floor after Stiles managed to splash some of it on her face.  She screeched at the sensation. 

Laura and Erica barged in just as Derek was about to pull Stiles and Kate apart.  Erica got Derek’s arms around his back after pushing Laura behind her.  “You’ll only get in the way,” she spat.

“Get them out of here!” Stiles shouted, gaining the upper hand briefly.  

“STILES!” Derek shouted as Erica pushed him out the front door yelling “Out!  Now!  Laura, hurry!”

As the front door slammed, Kate managed to pin Stiles to the linoleum, her hand finding the handle of another kitchen knife.  She held it up to his throat, a maniacal grin spreading across her face as she straddled him.  Stiles stilled under the cold steel, sharp against is skin, pinpricks of a real threat. 

“Shh, that’s a good boy.”  Kate leaned in close.  “You know, Detective, you’re quite an interesting character.  Friend’s with my niece.  We share the same ex-lover.”  She leaned back, looking him in the eye.  Her gaze was as sharp and deadly as the blade against his throat.  “And you keep getting in my way.”

Erica would have called for backup by now, he figured.  They would catch her.  They would.  It was the only thought to keep him from panicking, because Stiles had already come to the conclusion that he was going to die.  He was a cop and a damned good one, he was trained well and physically capable of a lot of things, but he was no action movie hero.  He couldn’t get himself out of this. 

The world seemed to darken around him.  But no, not the world.  The light in his kitchen grew darker as the moon was blocked through the window in his kitchen. 

 _Catwoman_.  He grinned, just enough for Kate to notice.  She narrowed her eyes at him, but before she could so much as press the knife down, Erica was on her, knocking her sideways.  Stiles hissed as the blade slid sideways against his throat, shallow but bleeding.

There was a crash of bodies rolling violently into his kitchen cabinets as Stiles gathered his wits. 

“My gun!” Erica yelled.  “Go – gah! – GET MY GUN!”

Stiles, his world in almost hyper focus, adrenaline pushing him forward, sped to his bedroom.  Erica’s gun was sitting in its holster, atop her uniform which was in a lump on his dresser.  He pulled it out, grabbed the clip and snapped it in place, turning the safety off.  There was another crash coming from the kitchen and Erica’s piercing yell.

He raced back in just in time to see Kate climb through his living room window, giving him a salacious wink.  She popped through the window before he could aim.  He charged the window, aiming once he could get a clear view.  It was a in a heartbeat he convinced himself of the rules, the laws of a cop.  Aim to incapacitate, not to kill.  He breathed the code in, steadied his pulse, and fired.

He wished it could have been her heart.

Kate went down with a bellow like a dragon, her rage like fire and brimstone.  Erica had reached his side, stumbling from what looked like a nasty blow to the head. 

“I’m going to grab her.  Call dispatch, get back up and Argent.”

She nodded and headed back to his room.  Stiles jumped out his window and raced after Kate.  She was forcing herself to her feet, the gunshot wound in her calf giving her trouble. 

He tackled her in the slowly lighting alleyway behind his apartment, morning creeping up around them.  With a shriek, Kate turned.  A flash metallic. 

“AHHHH!” Stiles gripped his arm in reflex against the sharp pain of knife in Kate’s hand.  “GOD FUCKING-“

It was enough of a distraction Kate had him on his back.  He lashed out, training since his single digit years kicking in, his father teaching him self-defense, wrestling with Allison as children and her almost always winning.  Allison was much better than Kate.  Even as a kid.

Stiles grabbed her wrist, twisting it the right way to release her grip on the knife.  He got a punch to her kidney, rolling them over and knocking the blade too far away for her reach. 

Derek and Laura came running around the bend. 

“Stiles!” Derek shouted, spotting the blood tricking down his arm and neck. 

“Get Erica,” he told them calmly.  “And get my handcuffs.”

Sirens wailed in the distance.  He thanked living so close to the precinct.

In an hours’ time, Kate was in custody and the Hales were giving their statements.  Stiles had somehow found time to slip into a pair of jeans. Allison had been the one to lock Kate’s handcuffs to the interrogation table.

“Look at you,” Kate laughed.  “I grow old and you turn into a super model.”

“Shut up,” Allison spat, cinching her chain shorter and exiting the room to join Boyd, Stiles, and two FBI agents in the viewing chamber. 

“I haven’t seen her in years,” Allison whispered.  “God she’s so… there was a time when I liked her.  When I though she hung the moon and I totally hero worshiped her.  _Her_ ,” she spat. 

Stiles shrugged.  “She was your aunt.  You grew up.  You saw what she really was.”

“Why the hell was she doing this?” Allison asked, mostly to herself.

One of the FBI agents uncrossed her arms with an almost shy smile.  “We’ll find out, I’m sure.” 

“Agent Yukimura?” Stiles questioned.  “Can I go in first?  I think I have a good idea.”

Allison frowned at him.  She hadn’t heard of any theories.  Stiles had wanted to be sure before brining any of his findings forward.  Without another word, Stiles slipped out and into the room where Kate Argent sat. 

“Your arm’s looking good,” she said with a smarmy look. 

The EMT who wrapped up Kate’s leg had given him a towel to apply pressure with until he could take care of it.  It really wasn’t that bad for all the pain and Derek and Erica’s worrying.  Only a few stitches.  “Yeah, you’re shit with a knife.”

“Never was my strong suit.”

“No, emotional manipulation and fire power is your bread and butter.”

Kate laughed, a wicked, joyless sound.  “Oh, you have a sharp tongue, don’t you there Stilinski.”

Stiles kicked out his chair and flopped in it, keeping his eyes sharp on Kate.  “This is the point where I’m supposed to ask you why you did it, but I think we both know the answer to that.”

“You think you know me so well, Detective?” she all but purred.

“I was on bed rest for quite some time, Kate.  You really think I didn’t do some research?  While my partners were trying to find you I was looking up every little detail of your life.  I’m really good at my job.  You know that?”

Kate snorted. “And what did you find?”

“You didn’t hide anything, Kate.”

“I didn’t really try, to be honest.”

“Clearly.”

“So what did you find out, Detective?  I really wanna know.”

“Tell me, was this all about your father?  Or did you have any sort of actual real reason to do all this?  Or was your dad just an excuse to act like a nut case?”

Kate laughed again.  “Nut case.  I’ve been called worse.”

“You went after Derek Hale, specifically, when you went to college together, because his mother and uncle, Talia and Peter Hale, were the prosecutors who sentenced your father to his time in prison.”

She smirked.  She looked like a snake.  “Well, at first I just thought he had some really nice abs.  You _must_ know.  Don’t you Stiles?  Did you ever lick them?  Well worth it.”

Stiles ignored these comments, keeping his eyes cold as he looked at her.  “Did you even love your husband?  Or was he just an excuse to target Derek again when you found out he was also a descendent of the family the Reed’s had a feud with?”

“Oh, you are clever, aren’t you?”   Her smirk grew wider as she leaned back as much as she could with her wrists restrained.  “I did love James,” she said honestly, her smile fading to a fond look before a full grin spreading over her face.  “Until he no longer saw my way of things.”

“Is that why you strangled him before setting him on fire in Laura Hale’s house?”

She laughed brightly.  “Yes.”

Count that for two confession, at least.

“Were the other members of Sarah Briar’s descendants just a warm up?  Kitchen fires to homemade bombs, just trying to figure out what worked best?”

“Maybe,” she smiled sweetly.  “Maybe I just really like fire.  Who knows how long I’ve been doing this?”

“You mean your neighbor, Johnathan Troy?”  Kate’s face visibly faltered at the name.  “When you were thirteen?”

“How do you know that name?”

“Who nearly died in a car explosion only, what was it, a week after he ran over your bike?”

“How-?” she bite her own word, looking Stiles over another time, more cautious than before.

“Or when you were seven and your friend Stacey wound up in the hospital after her hair caught on fire while using a gas stove?

“That was an accident,” Kate spat. 

“An accident because you hadn’t meant to hurt her, or just not that much?” 

Kate was practically blowing steam out her nostrils now. 

“Or the judge who threw out your case against Derek Hale after deeming the charges false allegations, whose house burnt down four months later.  Kudos on that one.  Did you pay off the inspector to deem it faulty wiring, or were you really that good?”

“You have no proof,” she sneered.

“I don’t need proof,” Stiles said, leaning back and crossing his arms.  “You already confessed to killing your husband, burning down Laura Hale’s house, which connects you to all the Briar fires.  I also have myself and three other witnesses, one of which is also a cop, of you breaking and entering into my apartment, trying to start another fire, and attacking with intent to kill a cop, which is enough to put you away at any rate.  I’m not sure why you agreed about killing your husband, though.  Perhaps because your father knew about your revenge plot and was perfectly willing to do whatever it took to keep you out of jail and continuing fighting the good fight in his name.  Like buy off or blackmail all the judges in the area.  He’s gotten all but three down under his thumb.  What good odds for you that even a confession could be thrown away in court.”

She snarled at him, her attempt to lunge forward choked back by the chains at her wrist.  “You know NOTHING!” she snarled, settling back down in her seat.  “ _Nothing_.”

“Except,” Stiles began, standing up, “I’ve been sending our tech guy to clear out all the dirty judges.  You’ve been on the run recently, traveling a lot all the way up to Oregon and back.  You may have missed the scandal all over TV.”

Kate sat back, her eyes wide, almost scared but mostly angry. 

“You have no legs to stand on, Kate.  And anything my guy hasn’t found, know that the FBI is in the next room.  Agents Yukimura and Braden.  Two badass women just like yourself.  Pretty sure they can handle your shit, because you’re officially off my hands.”

And Stiles walked right out of the room. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Boyd stepped out of the viewing room just as Stiles shut the door behind him.  He crossed his arms and quirked an eyebrow.  “There’s no judge scandal on TV,” he stated simply.

Stiles shrugged and headed to his desk, Boyd trailing behind him.  “No, but there will be in about a week.  I didn’t have enough evidence to bring it forth for so much as a warrant yet, but my suspicions were right if you bothered to look at Kate’s face.  And Danny’s been too busy on that Hacker case until recently to help me figure out who Gerard Argent was using to continue his work from prison.  Couldn’t have been Reed because Kate killed his nephew.”

Boyd hummed.  “Who was it, then?”

Stiles turned to say they didn’t know yet when Danny rounded the corner frowning.  “Old cell mate, Matt Daehler.  Went on parole about a month before the fires started up.” 

Stiles blanched.  “ _Daehler_.  Didn’t that guy kill a bunch of cops?  How the hell was he let out?”

“Well, technically he didn’t kill a bunch of cops.  He organized a raid to kill a bunch of cops.  The only things they were able to charge him with in the end was aiding and abetting and illegal possession of a fire arm.”

“Well shit,” Stiles spat. 

Boyd clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a stern look.  “Stiles, no more working.”  He looked to Danny and held out his hand for the files.  “I’ll take those, get the warrant on those judges, contact Chris to take down Daehler, and _you_ ,” he said turning back to Stiles, “are going to go take Erica and the Hales to Denny’s, and maybe hit up my or Erica’s apartment and take a nap.”

Stiles crossed his arms and pouted.  “You’re not my commanding officer.”

“No,” Allison said, joining them, “but I am.  Come on, Stilinski.  Take a rest.  You’re not even supposed to be back yet, technically.”

Stiles huffed and held up his finger, asking for a moment.  He rummaged through his desktop to find the information on the judges as well as the Reed/Briar feud he had gathered and quickly emailed it off to Danny and Boyd.  He double checked he had his wallet and followed Boyd out to the lobby.  “I’m surprised they’re still here, to be honest,” Stiles said.  Erica could have taken the Hales to breakfast after they gave their statements. 

Boyd gave him a look.  The kind that made Stiles want to squirm and protest.  This is what made Boyd a good cop.  A lot of people would just buckle under Boyd’s knowing looks.  Stiles was not one of them. 

“There’s nothing going on between us,” Stiles blurted, crossing his arms petulantly.  Okay, so Stiles was _totally_ one of them.  Only Boyd.  And Lydia.  And sometimes Allison.  But hey, he never cracked under Chris Argent’s looks of disdain and frustration.  And never with a perp, so there.

And so… there.. Stiles’s steps slowed as he reached the lobby and saw Derek, head between his knees, his leg bouncing erratically.  Laura was rubbing circles on his back while chatting with Erica.  The girls were still tense, but they seemed to find comfort in each other.  Derek though. 

He looked up when Stiles stopped in front of them, their eyes catching. 

Derek scrambled to his feet and gently grabbed Stiles’s arm with urgency.  “Are you okay?” he asked, turning it to get a better look at the bandaging.  “I didn’t get to see you after the ambulance came and-”

“I’m fine,” Stiles said softly.  He took Derek’s hand off his arm, the touch of their fingers sending a shiver down his spine.  “It’s just a scratch, honestly.”

Derek lifted his other hand and traced the knick across Stiles’s throat with the pad of his thumb.  Stiles cleared his throat and took a step back. 

“Yes, right.”  He cleared his throat and looked over to Boyd who was giving him an amused look.  He gave Derek a strained smile and looked over to Erica and Laura.  “I’ve been instructed to bring you all to Denny’s.  Let’s go get breakfast.”

Laura smiled in thanks, it not quite reaching her eyes.  “Thanks, I appreciate it.  Just, we might have to rush or pop out cuz Cora’s taking a hopper down.  She got discharged last night and-”

“Cora?” Boyd asked, his back straightening.  It was so imperceptible, but Stiles knew his partner well. “I can pick her up, if it makes things easier.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Stiles said, a sly smile creeping across his face.  “You were Derek’s roommate at college where Cora started to attend before either of you graduated.  You must have known her pretty well.”

Boyd gave a look to just cut that train of thought, but Stiles could help but smirk. 

“Come on,” he said to the others, “let’s go.”

Breakfast went by in a haze.  A haze of why the fuck did Derek get whipped cream on his waffles.  And over all tiredness that did not help his concentration.  It was like his ADHD as a teen all over again.  Well, maybe not that bad. 

Still, Erica took over the wheel to drive them to Boyd’s to thankfully drop just Stiles off, bringing the Hales to her place to take a well-deserved nap.

Except when Stiles went to do the same, he couldn’t.  His mind kept drifting back to the day, the morning, the night before, to Kate and how deranged her mind must be, how Derek’s whole family got caught up in a mess, about how Erica’s epilepsy and how dangerous it was for her to be on the field, about Matt Daehler and Gerard Argent and how Allison was handling things back at the station, about Derek and his lies, not lies, mistruths, how Derek hadn’t told his family about him, how that stupid pewter wolf statue Derek had kept after their break up, bothered to take it out of the box and put it somewhere he could see when he moved back to California, about the stuffed toy still in the back of his closet, about how his apartment was a crime scene and he couldn’t be able to get back in for a few days, about that damn kiss.

Because the thing is, even with all the heartbreak, Stiles missed Derek.  Not just the sex, although that had been amazing and that kiss made him remember what kind of spark they had together, but _Derek_.  His dry sense of humor, his social awkwardness Stiles had to help him with, making pancakes at two in the morning after a night of drinking, lazy Sunday mornings where they would read books, or the nights Derek would cook after Stiles had a big test, or the times Stiles would make Derek cookies after a case. He missed movie nights with sugary cereal and he missed talking with someone who had the same taste in nerdy movies and comic books and someone with different sports teams to fight over and throw cheese puffs at during games where they played each other.  

Stiles missed being with Derek. 

“ _Shit_ ,” Stiles cursed. 

Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.  They broke up.  It sucked.  Stiles got over it.  He moved on.  He dated some.  Okay, so he mostly dived into his job until he got so obsessed he was work mandated to see a therapist, but he would never bring up his love life to Morrell.  And yeah, so upon first reaction to seeing Derek was to shove his face with chocolate and hide in Allison’s office. 

Stiles groaned and decided to raid Boyd’s kitchen.  He groaned again.  Boyd ate _way_ too healthy.

“I hate my liiiiiiiiife,” Stiles groused , slumping back into the living room just as the door opened.  Boyd’s little sister entered and raised her eyebrow.  “Hey Alicia,” Stiles laughed.  “Just the usual.”

She snorted and dropped her bag and toed off her shoes.  “Just don’t let me find you in the bathtub with your socks still on again.  I’d like to keep my lunch down.”  Alicia headed off to her room and turned up the music. 

Stiles pulled out his phone and shot of a quick text to Erica.

[12:22 To: Catwoman] u able to sleep?

[12:24 From: Catwoman] Lol NOPE.  Too wired. Laura’s conked out on my bed and lover boy’s on the couch staring balefully at the blank tv.

[12:24 From: Catwoman] He’s worried about you.

[12:25 To: Catwoman] I donno what to do with him tbh

[12:25 From: Catwoman] Aw, give him a chance.  All I’ve seen from him is him trying to figure out how to get on your good side.

[12:26 To: Catwoman] I’m still not over the shit he put me thru tho

[12:27 From: Catwoman] And you never will be if you don’t at the very least sit down and talk about it.

Stiles shoved some carrots into his mouth, the closest thing to snack food he could find in Boyd’s apartment, and sat at the kitchen table.  She had a point, but he didn’t really want to listen to it.

[12:30 To: Hawkeye] is the arson case officially closed? 

[12:31 From: Hawkeye] If this is you seeking permission to date a witness, I’ll have to give you the talk about proper procedure when it comes to taking this to court.

[12:32 To: Hawkeye] probs have to give it to Erica and Boyd too.  u have 3 officers lustin after Hales.

[12:33 From: Hawkeye] you all make my life full of too much paperwork.

[12:34 To: Hawkeye] says the girl marrying her subordinate.

[12:34 To: Catwoman] tell Derek to stop moping and be ready to take me out someplace nice tonight.  I’ll be over at 6.

[12:35 From: Catwoman] Done and done.

[12:36 From: Catwoman] OH MY GOD I WISH I COULD HAVE FILMED THAT.  HE FLAILED OFF THE COUCH WORSE THAN YOU AND IS NOW STARING AT ME WITH THESE BIG PUPPY EYES GOD.

[12:37 From: Catwoman] you guys are perf for each other.

Stiles blushed and groaned in embarrassment, thankful no one was there to see him.  He made his way back to the couch and was finally able to fall asleep, the thought of Derek flailing over him keeping a smile on his face.

Stiles, of course, woke up at 5:20 and had to rush to put himself together.  Boyd was in the kitchen making dinner and pointed at a bundle of clothes he stole from Stiles’s apartment.

“Buddy, man, I could kiss you,” Stiles declared, darting into the bathroom.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Boyd called after him.

“Yeah, save it for my brother!” A woman’s voice called cheerfully.  Stiles opened the door and peaked out.  He had completely missed the short brunette who looked stunningly like Laura.  A mini Laura.

“Cora?”

“Got it in one,” she grinned wickedly.

“Oh god.  I fear for my life.”

Cora laughed, which quickly turned into a coughing fit.  Stiles remembered Cora had been caught in a fire only days prior.  “Are you okay?’

She nodded, reaching out for the glass of water Boyd had readily available.  She chugged some and gave Stiles a look that made him feel like he was kind of stupid.

“Get dressed or you’re going to be late.”

Stiles took a moment to look at the clothes in his hand.  How _had_ Boyd known about the date.  Erica probably.  But Cora also knew so.

“I’ve been sending him pictures of you passed out on the couch,” Cora supplied with a smirk as if she could read his mind.  “Now get dressed.”

Stiles was showered and changed in ten minutes, stealing some of Alicia’s hair gel so he didn’t look like a wet mop, and out the door before realizing he didn’t have his car.  He froze on the welcome mat.  A pair of keys to the cruiser he split with Boyd were pressed into his hand.  Well, technically Boyd was Erica’s partner now but they both had cruisers…

“Stop over thinking, Stiles.  Just go.”

Suddenly Stiles’s feet didn’t want to move.  There were too many senarios bouncing around in his head.  What if Derek didn’t actually like him that way anymore?  What if it was just his guilt complex that made him keep that present?  What if it was just the heat of the moment that had them kiss last night?   What if they found out they had nothing in common anymore?  What if they found out they had everything still in common and it turned Derek off because it reminded him of why he broke up with Stiles in the first place?  What if –

“Stiles,” Cora snapped, “if you don’t leave right now I swear to god.”

He ignored her in favor of turning to Boyd.  “What’s happening with Daehler?”

Boyd rolled his eyes.  “Chris and Allison are going after him with a whole team of people who haven’t recently been injured.  It’s not your problem anymore.”

“But-,”

“You figured it out.  Kudos.  Now go before I drive you there myself.”

The last time Boyd forcibly drove Stiles somewhere, he had handcuffed Stiles to the backseat.  Stiles held his hands up and backed away.  “Okay, okay.  I’m going.  I’m,” he turned away and shook his head to clear it.  “Yeah.”

When Stiles pulled up to Erica’s apartment, Derek was standing out front in what was clearly a newly bought suit that Stiles assumed Laura had picked out.  He looked nervous and hopeful and the anxiety bubbling in Stiles’s chest double timed as the heat in his stomach twisted and melted, pooling lower. 

Derek walked over and leaned over the driver’s window, his arm resting on the top of the car as he looked in.  “So where are you taking me, officer?”

Stiles laughed.  “Very smooth,” he grinned.  “But I thought I told you, _you_ were taking _me_ someplace fancy.”

Derek’s mouth ticked up at the corner, the way it did when he wanted to laugh but he never did feel comfortable doing so.

“Come on, get in,” Stiles said, gesturing to the passenger seat.  Derek walked around the car and slid in.  “You’d have made a good cop.  Or maybe just a good TV cop.  You make this look good.”

Derek shook his head, buckling in.  Stiles saw the blush creeping up Derek’s neck.

“Where to?” he asked.

“I made a reservation at Vincent’s.”

“Oh, you do know how to treat a man nice,” Stiles said. 

The car ride was quiet, but comfortable.  Stiles kept stealing glances at Derek when he could afford them.  He usually caught Derek staring at Stiles.

“Thank you,” Derek said after they parked and were getting out of the car.  “For giving me a chance.”

Stiles looked away, bashful, before pulling his courage together and reached for Derek’s hands.  Their fingers intertwined like breathing and something in Stiles relaxed.

“Today’s going to be a practical exam in communication,” he told Derek as they made their way to the maître d.  “We’re going to talk it all out and not get distracted by other things because we are at a restaurant.”

Derek smirked, his eyes trailing over Stiles’s face and hovering on his lips. 

“And if you pass,” Stiles continued, “we’ll find someplace to stay tonight that isn’t one of my coworker’s couches.”

“I think I can do that,” Derek said sincerely, his thumb trailing back and forth over Stiles’s hand.

“But you have to know, this isn’t high school.  You can’t just take this test and forget all about it.  You’re going to need these skills in the future.”

“Stiles,” Derek said, his free hand coming up to rest on Stiles’s cheek.  “I will do anything to make this work.  I promise.”

Stiles was enraptured by the ever changing hue of Derek’s eyes.  “I want to trust you, Derek.  But you have to earn that back.”

Derek nodded, taking his hand away.  “I know.  He leaned over and kissed Stiles’s cheek.  “But know that I trust you.  Which is something I should have done a long time ago.  But back then I couldn’t even trust myself.”

They stared at each other for a long time, Stiles squeezing his hold on Derek’s hand, before turning to the host.

“Hale, table for two.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

Dinner was at first, suffice to say, awkward.  Once they were seated on either side of a tea light candle and a short vase of violets, all gentle touches and words of assurance were suspended. They sat in silence while they poured over their menus, shifting in their seats, the occasional clearing of the throat.  When the waiter came to take their drink order Derek ordered a bottle of wine for the table.

“Trying to get me drunk,” Stiles joked, although it fell flat.

“No.  I- we don’t have to,” Derek said, already half poised to call the waiter back.

“No, Derek, it’s fine.  Good choice, honestly.”

Derek pulled his hand back to the table and nodded dumbly.  This was not going well.

“Okay,” Stiles sighed, admitting defeat.  “If we’re going to talk this over we’re going to have to, you know, _talk_.”

Derek looked up at him sheepishly.  “I have no idea what to say.”

It was so reminiscent of Derek back when they first met, how he tried so hard to be perfect for everyone he met when in reality he was flying blind and maybe a little terrified inside.  Stiles’s heart couldn’t help but melt a little at the thought Derek was truly that nervous over this.

“How about,” Stiles said, leaning over to take Derek’s hand.  They fit together so perfectly.  It seemed to relax something around Derek’s shoulders when they touched.  “How about you start with explaining to me why we broke up.”

Derek flinched, his hand pulling back from Stiles’s just the slightest before resettling on the table. 

“I was afraid,” Derek said into his chest, not looking up.  “I was afraid you would break my heart.”

Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand.  “Hurt them before they can hurt you, right,” Stiles said a little tonelessly.  Because he had been.  He had been so hurt because of how Derek handled his feelings.  Stiles shrugged.  “Maybe I should have come back and tried to talk to you.  If I had gotten this out of you I would have smacked you upside your head and told you how stupid you were being.”

Derek huffed.  “Yeah, maybe.”  He looked up to Stiles with those deep sorrowful eyes.  “But we ended because of me.  Not because of you.  You can’t think of what you could have done differently because I was the idiot who freaked out.  And you deserved to be angry and need space after how I handled it so you shouldn’t expect to have been in the mindset to chase after someone who cut you off.  It wouldn’t have been healthy for either of us.”

Those words sounded almost rehearsed.  Not practiced, but almost as if Derek had heard that enough, or something similar, for a long time.  “Have you been seeing a shrink?”

Derek looked back down at their hands where Stiles was now rubbing soothing circles against Derek’s wrist.  “Yeah,” he admitted.  “I wasn’t in a good place after I realized you had left Boston.”  Derek shook his head.  “I wasn’t in a good place the minute I kicked you out, but when I went back to grovel and you were gone.  I had a lot of anonymous hate sex after that.”

“With Julia Jennifer?”

Derek cringed, but more loosely like he was relaxing into the conversation rather than shying away from it.

“God, yeah.  I leave you and the next person I hook up with changes their name because of me.”

Stiles laughed, though it was a heavy sound. 

The waiter came back with the wine, pouring them each a glass after Derek had tasted it.  Derek then ordered the steak and Stiles the salmon and the Stiles promptly knocked over his water glass.

There was a rush of napkins and from both Derek and the waiter, a litany of apologies from Stiles.  When the waiter walked away Stiles groaned and buried his face in his hands.  “This is going spectacularly.”

“About as good as our first date,” Derek laughed.

Stiles smiled.  They had gone to Chili’s.  They were now banned from that Chili’s. 

“To us,” Stiles said, lifting his wine glass as a toast, “for being massive fuck ups.”

Derek clinked his glass to that. 

Things seemed to go smoother after that.  Derek and Stiles talked about what they had been doing for the last six years, about their families and how Scott was doing and what being Boyd’s roommate was like back in college and how Stiles reached Detective.  It was nice, familiar.  They touched bases on the breakup a few times, Stiles quite not willing to forgive and forget just because they were enjoying themselves.  But even Derek brought it up again, talking about how he and Jennifer got together and when he started seeing a therapist about everything. 

“You know, that stuffed wolf from Six Flags is still in my crime scene of an apartment.”

Derek looked hopeful and pleased.  “Yeah?”

“He was in a box for a long time, but I never could get rid of it.”

After dinner, Derek insisted on paying the check.  “This is an apology dinner.  You can’t pay for it.”

“Apology huh?”

As they waited for their server to come back after taking the credit card, Derek took both of Stiles’s hands in his.  “I never said it, did I?  Stiles Stilinski, we are here tonight because you were willing to give me a second chance after the biggest mistake of my life.  I cannot, for the life of me, express to you how truly sorry I am for hurting you the way I did.  I acted selfishly and cowardly because I was too afraid of my own feelings to stop and think about yours.  I’m sorry.”  Derek lifted Stiles’s hands and kissed his knuckles.  “How’s that for communication?” he said with a smarmy smile, but Stiles could see the vulnerability in his look, still terrified of being rejected. 

The waiter came back before Stiles could respond, placing the black receipt book down with a practiced thank you come again spiel. 

“That,” Stiles said, once they had some privacy, “may have just earned you a hotel room.”

**EPILOGUE**

Stiles moaned as he scrambled for friction, pushing Derek’s dress coat off.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he breathed into Derek’s lips. 

Derek growled, tilting his head to nip at Stiles’s jaw.  “Why not,” he said into Stiles’s skin.  Derek reached between them and started undoing Stiles’s belt.

“It’s a  _wedding,_  Derek.  I’m the Best Man.  Best Men aren’t supposed to fool around at weddings!  They’re-“ he bit down into the junction between Derek’s neck and shoulder to suppress a moan as Derek got his hands on him.  “Derek, we –ah!”

The door flung open as Lydia, her legs wrapped around Aiden and lips locked came stumbling in.  The two couples froze staring at each other.  Lydia took in where Derek’s hand had stilled, hidden in the folds of Stiles’s pants.  Stiles stared blankly at how Aiden’s hands disappeared up Lydia’s dress, clearly holding her up by her ass. 

Lydia tapped Aiden to drop her, which he did.  “We’ll, uh, take this somewhere else,” Lydia said before dragging Aiden off without so much as a second glance.

“Well if the Maid of Honor is doing it, so can the Best Man.  Screw Scott.  I’m screwing you,” Stiles breathed, reaching between them to help Derek out of his pants.  “Just don’t ruin my tux.”

Derek smirked, licking into Stiles’s mouth.  Stiles pushed him away with a stern look.  “And put something to block the door.”

Sometime later Derek and Stiles stumbled out of the room, fixing each other’s hair and ties.

“Do you think we missed anything?”

The banquet hall was full of dancing couples.  Allison with her slight baby bump was glowing as she swayed with Scott, their eyes so focused on each other the room could be empty and they wouldn’t have noticed.

“Hey,” Derek said, nudging Stiles with his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

Derek gave Stiles a lingering kiss.  “I love you.”

Stiles's grin was as blinding as Allison's. “I love you, too.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> [FIND ME ON TUMBLR](http://www.inthearmsofathief.tumblr.com)
> 
> Also! I'm made a webseries about werewolves! [The Werewolf Diaries](http://www.youtube.com/c/amyberserk)


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